Sharing Boundaries
by DaughterOfAres
Summary: In L.A. the Major Crimes department, led by Captain Sharon Raydor, are working a case involving several women gone missing under mysterious circumstances. The BAU stops by to lend a hand.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, this is a crossover. **

**I don't want to upset any hardcore Criminal Minds fans which may happen seeing as I'm going to take some liberties with that universe. For the purpose of this fic any event past season five of Criminal Minds didn't happen. So, Emily Prentiss is still part of the team. That's really the big thing. **

**What else? *thinks* That's it really. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Sharing Boundaries**

"Captain Sharon Raydor, Major Crimes," she announced as she quickly approached the latest crime scene.

The officer in charge of the log book nodded and quickly added her name and arrival time to the ever-growing list. As she neared her, she noticed that the officer had straightened a bit upon seeing her. The turned-down lips and lack of any sort of greeting was enough for anyone to see that she wasn't pleased with the rather mundane assignment. Having been in her position before, Sharon made an effort to smile at the officer as she put on the blue booties, waiting in a box by the door. She pulled on a pair of gloves, as well. If this crime scene was like the others, however, she doubted she'd need either the gloves or booties.

From the outside, the entire complex looked roach infested. Graffiti covered the walls. There was no upkeep to the grounds. Neither grass nor shrub thrived unattended in the L.A. heat, leaving the entire area looking dried-up and dead. The door she was to open before stepping inside was covered in years of grime, she noted, and a green substance she was sure was mold was collecting in the crevices.

Giving the left glove one last tug before it snapped into place, she opened the door of the small studio apartment. The contrast was startling.

The inside was a stark divergence from what one expected. It was immaculate considering the state of disrepair of the entire structure. Sharon barely contained a frustrated sigh as she stood only a few steps past the door. The beige carpet was so worn down in places that one could almost see the floor underneath. Clearly, it had been recently vacuumed and steam cleaned-probably for the first time in twenty years. The walls and ceiling were scrubbed to the point where some of the paint had come off, exposing the white primer beneath the pale green paint. The table looked freshly polished, as did the small TV and folding table it rested on precariously. The kitchen area, from what she could see, looked just as pristine, lacking a single dirty dish-unlike her own place. She felt a bit guilty, hoping that Rusty would do the dishes she'd left in the sink last night and this morning.

Undoubtedly, the bathroom in this place was more sanitary than a hospital's.

The small bed tucked into a corner was made with military style perfection. The sheets appeared ironed down without a single crease, but it was missing a blanket or comforter. Just like the others, she noted with an internal sigh.

"Ah, Captain, good morning." Provenza had finally noticed her presence and moved towards her from the kitchen area. His smile didn't cover his sardonicism. "Would you care for a tour?"

"Good morning. Anything different from the others?"

"Not really," Provenza answered with a sigh and shake of his head. "Marissa Josa, age 28. She didn't show up to work on Friday, so her co-workers called her sister, who doesn't have a key, but stopped by Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night after she got off work. She received no answer when she knocked on the door. Early this morning, when her sister didn't show up to work again, she called the police to report her missing. She waited for the police to arrive, and stayed with them while they did a public safety check. Police officers asked the landlord to open the door, and-thanks to the notice you had Amy put out-they immediately called us after clearing the apartment."

"Did the victim have a car?"

"What victim?" Provenza mumbled as he looked over his notes. "You have to have a body to have a victim." He found what he was looking for in his notes. "According to her sister, yes, a red '98 Toyota Camry. As I'm sure you've already deduced, it's nowhere to be found. We have an APB out on it, for all the good it will do."

Sharon was silent as she walked over the scene herself, hoping she'd see something her team had missed, as unlikely as that was.

"As you can see, it's been cleaned better than what most housekeeping services claim to do," Provenza continued as he followed her around the small living space. "We may, however, have caught a break this time."

She immediately turned to face him, feeling both eager at the prospect of a break and trepidation at the lack of excitement in the Lieutenant's tone.

"The trash in this neighborhood isn't picked up until tomorrow," Provenza informed her.

"So there's a chance he dumped something here at the complex."

Provenza nodded. "Given the care this guy puts into covering his tracks, though, I'm not placing any bets on that."

"This is the fastest we've found one of the crime scenes, though, Lieutenant. It's a possibility he isn't as careful as we think."

"How do we really know this is the crime scene?" Flynn commented, stepping out of the bathroom and heading towards them, followed by someone from SID who quickly made his way out the door. "Just because the place is clean doesn't mean she didn't just run off."

"Yes, Flynn." Provenza was losing his patience. "There's been a sudden outbreak of women scrubbing their homes then just disappearing without a trace." He turned back to the Captain. "Which is why Amy, Julio, and Mike, along with SID are out dumpster diving in every dumpster within a five mile radius. Buzz went with Mike."

"Maybe we'll get lucky." Andy shrugged.

"Maybe," Sharon agreed. "Has SID finished with the apartment?"

Flynn nodded. "For now, they're coming back with the heated super glue stuff just to make sure there are no prints anywhere. They found what looks like traces of blood in the shower's drain, but if it is blood, there's no telling how it got there or even a precise time it got there or how much—"

"Flynn!" Provenza interrupted. "We get the picture. You don't have to make this any more depressing."

Sharon ignored their bickering. "We should head back to the station and find out as much about—what was her name again?"

"Marissa Josa," Provenza supplied.

She nodded, and repeated the name several times in her head as she picked up where she left off. "Find out as much as we can about Miss Josa while we wait on the results of the dumpster search."

Andy nodded while Provenza bowed his head and gestured extravagantly for her to precede them to the door.

….

Together, they rode up the elevator in silence. There wasn't much to say. Amy had called Provenza with an update while he was riding with Flynn to the PAB. In turn, Provenza had managed to fill her in before she'd taken two steps away from her car. They hadn't found anything yet, but still had several more dumpsters to go through.

The elevator came to a gentle stop, and her heels clicked with more determination and optimism that she felt as she walked towards the Murder Room followed closely by Flynn and Provenza.

"I'm going to stop in the break room for a cup of coffee, Lieutenants. I'll join you in a moment."

Provenza gave a grunt of acknowledgement as their paths separated. Before she turned the corner towards the break room, she realized how badly she needed coffee and maybe a visit with a psychologist if she was able to distinguish between Provenza's communicative grunts.

Or at least a vacation.

One she could go on by herself once she'd made sure her children were all safely hidden away somewhere. Or she'd have to wait until they caught Stroh.

The break room smelled like fresh coffee. She felt the corners of her mouth pull upwards slightly and she mentally thanked the angelic person who'd recently put on a new pot as she inhaled the aroma. Her steps felt just a bit lighter as she moved to retrieve her mug from the overhead cupboard and began the sacred ritual of preparing the perfect cup of break room coffee. Her sugar free hazelnut creamer was still half full in the refrigerator, and didn't go out of date for another week. She filled a quarter of her mug with the creamer before returning it to the refrigerator. Then she slowly poured the coffee watching the patterns and color changes that occurred as coffee met creamer. She replaced the pot and brought the warm mug to her lips inhaling the scent. Her smile grew only fractionally, and she lowered the mug before walking the short distance back to the Murder Room.

She allowed herself a bit of optimism as she entered the Murder Room. Finding the crime scene before trash was collected could be the perfect break in their case. It was entirely possible they'd find all the evidence they needed and could wrap this case up with a bow before the end of the week. Then she could get back to looking for Stroh and planning her vacation. Maybe she'd take a cruise. That way she could bring her children with her. She'd get the three of them their own room they could share. A perfect opportunity for them to bond on the other side of the ship from her own private room. She could still do things with them every day, but would have her own place to unwind. And who'd ever heard of serial killers on a cruise? Yes. She needed a cruise. To Alaska.

Her thoughts of watching Beluga Whales frolic amongst the icebergs in the cold Alaskan waters while sipping on hot chocolate were abruptly ended before she fully entered the Murder Room. Both Provenza and Flynn were angry about something judging by the shouting.

Oh.

Joy.

Stepping completely into the Murder Room, she could see what had caused their anger. Or rather whom. A group of what could only be FBI agents stood between her office and Provenza's desk while Provenza and Flynn were expressing their displeasure at Taylor.

She wondered if they'd notice her absence if she went to help the others sift through garbage. She took a long sip of coffee.

She had barely swallowed when Taylor noticed her.

"Ah, Captain Raydor," Taylor announced. He moved away from Flynn and Provenza who glared openly at the FBI agents. "I'd like you to meet the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI." He gestured towards the group of FBI agents. "I asked them here to lend a hand with these murders you've been working on."

"They're not murders!" Flynn angrily voiced. "We don't have any bodies or any evidence of murder. And you could have at least warned us you were calling them!"

Taylor's already forced smile became tighter, but he ignored the Lieutenant. "I trust you'll make good use of their services, Captain."

"Of course, Chief," she agreed. What else could she do? Waste a cup of coffee by throwing it in his face, effectively terminating her career when she still had Rusty's college tuition to pay for?

Taylor stepped around her just as she stepped towards the FBI agents who-–to their credit-looked unfazed by the show Provenza, Flynn, and Taylor had put on for them. She stretched out a hand to the one she assumed to be in charge. "Captain Sharon Raydor."

"Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner." He returned the handshake before gesturing to each member of his team. "These are Special Agents David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

She shook hands with each of them in turn.

"Captain," Agent Hotchner spoke once introductions were taken care of, "I can assure you, we're not here to take credit away from your team. We're only here help. If you can provide us with a room, a whiteboard, and access to all your case files, we'll stay out of the way of your investigation."

She ignored Provenza's disbelieving snort.

"I'm not worried about who gets credit, Agent Hotchner. I'm concerned with finding out what happened to these young women, and, if possible, finding them alive."

"Of course," he replied. "We're here to help you with that."

"Excellent," she smiled. "Then you'll also understand why I can't provide you and your team with a separate room."

He blinked. It was the only sign she'd caught him by surprise, unlike the doctor and Agent Morgan who exchanged confused looks, and Agent Rossi who tried unsuccessfully to hide a lopsided smile.

"I'm sorry," he apologized without sincerity, "I'm not sure I understand."

That much was clear. "Agent Hotchner, there are four women out there who may be alive and in need of help. While I welcome your assistance in this task, I expect you to cooperate fully with our investigation and share your insights. I think it will be much easier to do that if you're in the same room as we are. Now, if you're ready, the Lieutenants and I will fill you in."

She turned away and walked towards the Murder Board. As she neared Tao's desk, she pointed to the empty one adjacent to his. "You're more than welcome to use this desk and computer to work on any necessary paperwork." She directed her attention to Provenza. "Have there been any more updates?"

"No, Captain." It was oddly soothing not to be able to interpret the Lieutenant's smile. What had he expected her to do, really? Throw them in the never used hard interview room, and spy on them through the two way mirror? "I checked with Tao and Sanchez, but they said the same thing as Sykes: nothing, yet, but they're still looking. I also let them know the FBI would be joining us."

"Lieutenant Flynn?" She redirected her attention once again, watching as their FBI guests – led by Agent Prentiss and Agent Rossi, who was no longer trying to hide his smile, finally began moving closer to the desk she'd indicated. "Anything on Marisa Josa?"

"She's married, but no children." Flynn moved from his desk closer to Provenza's. "Like the other three, she filed charges a few weeks ago against her husband for domestic violence. Unlike the other three, this S.O.B. has been in jail since the night of his arrest. I'm having County bring him over anyway for questioning, just to make sure he doesn't know anything. He should be here in a couple of hours."

She nodded. "Good. Thank you." She moved to the left of the board where the details from the first case were listed, and turned to the FBI agents. "We'll go over everything starting from what we believe to be the first missing woman."

"Believe to be?" Agent Prentiss asked, her mouth forming a small circle as her eyebrows moved towards each other in confusion.

Sharon nodded, looking over the board. "Yes, it is possible that there are others, but these are the only cases in the last five years that fit the M.O."

"Why are you only looking five years back?" Agent Morgan spoke up this time.

"Because nothing before January fits," Provenza informed them gruffly. "And if you'll shut up long enough for us to fill you in, you may find some of your questions answered before you even have to ask."

She gave Provenza a warning look. There were four women missing and possibly dead. Finding them was far more important than any grievances they had with Taylor's decision to call the FBI without even giving them some warning.

Provenza threw his hands up in the air before pulling out his crossword puzzle.

Sharon turned her attention back to the FBI agents and pointed to a picture of a redhead with shoulder length hair and green eyes. "Karla Brown. Age 32. She was a librarian. She was last seen by co-workers on Friday, January 30th. She didn't show up to work the following Monday and didn't call in. On Tuesday when she didn't show up again, her coworkers called the police to ask for a safety check. The police noticed that her car was missing, but items such as her wallet, ID, and passport were still in her apartment."

The FBI agents nodded as they listened. A few of them jotted down notes in their notebooks as Sharon continued speaking.

"Considering it was January, the responding officers noted that the A/C was on and turned on high. They spoke to the neighbors, as per protocol, and found that a couple had seen someone removing some garbage bags from the home and placing them in Karla's car."

One of the agents moved to speak, but was quickly quieted by Sharon's hand raising to stop the interruption from occurring.

"They couldn't remember at all what he looked like," Sharon said with a disappointed sigh. "One said he assumed it was her boyfriend. Due to the suspicious nature of the disappearance, her apartment was dusted for prints. There were none. Not even Karla's. Also, Karla's hair and toothbrushes were missing. There were no cleaning items in the apartment either. Her boyfriend had an alibi for some of the weekend, but not the whole time. A search of his home turned up nothing."

Flynn picked up with the description of the next woman. "Drew Pranty, 29. She worked as an actress. Mostly small theater work. She lived with her boyfriend until he broke her wrist. She changed the locks on the door afterwards." Flynn paused for a moment as he looked at the picture of the woman with brown hair and matching eyes. "Smart lady. She was last seen by friends on Thursday March 19th. When her mother-who lives in Kansas- couldn't reach her by phone for several days she called the police. Everything was just like Karla's apartment. Pristine. No finger prints, no cleaning items, no toothbrush, no hairbrush. The air was on high. Her car was missing. Missing Persons looked at the boyfriend, of course, his alibi was incomplete, but he volunteered to have his place searched. Or rather his parents place because that's where he's been living since he broke Drew's wrist. "

Sharon caught two of the FBI agents whisper briefly between themselves before they focused once more on her team. She had hoped her earlier comment about working together would prevent her from having to speak with Agent Hotchner about his team keeping prudent information to themselves. She put the thought aside. Over reacting at this stage of their "relationship" wouldn't help matters. She'd be sure to keep an eye out however.

"Our 3rd victim," Provenza picked up, setting his crossword down, but not standing. "Gabriella Lareens, 31. Pre-school teacher. We even spoke to all the students in her class looking for any sort of clue. She was last seen on Friday April 17th. Her brother came by her apartment on Sunday to see how she was doing. He had a key to her apartment and let himself in. He didn't stay long just took a quick look around. He noticed it was cold and adjusted the A/C, but he didn't notice anything unusual other than the A/C. Monday evening, when he still couldn't get in touch with her, he called the police. It was just like the other two. Her husband had been staying in a hotel since she'd had him arrested for abuse. Thanks to the hotel cameras we can account for his whereabouts from the time Gabriella was last seen and when her brother came to check on her Sunday. Again, a neighbor saw someone removing things from her apartment, but didn't take much notice. The neighbor assumed it was Gabriella's husband."

Sharon continued on, "Missing Persons handled all three of these cases first. After examining Gabriella's apartment, however, the detective in charge of her case recognized a pattern and Chief Taylor assigned us the case. Today's victim and Gabriella's apartments are the only two we've been able to examine ourselves. The other two have sense been turned over to the families. Blood has been found in the drains of both bathtubs. We're waiting on the results from today, but the blood in Gabriella's drain is suspected to be hers. We have nothing of hers to compare it to, but her brother volunteered his DNA for comparison."

"I'd like for us to take a look at today's crime scene." Hotchner stated.

She nodded, "Of course, however, SID is currently going over every inch of it using Super Glue Finger Print Fuming. You may want to give them a few hours to finish."

"You know, it's interesting," Doctor Reid spoke up.

"Kid, don't," Agent Morgan whispered.

Doctor Reid continued on as though oblivious to his partner, "Superglue was developed in the 1950s by researchers trying to produce an acrylic polymer for the aircraft industry. Commercial usage as an adhesive system for non-porous surfaces with a main advantage of have a very short cure time began soon after. In the 1970's it was first reported as a possible method for the development of latent fingers prints. Both the United Kingdom and Japan independently reported using it for that purpose at about the same time."

Everyone was completely silent for a moment.

Sharon took a sip of her coffee.

Provenza was the first to speak. "Ye Gods…it's another Tao."

* * *

**So? Thoughts? Love it? Hate it? Tell me everything. Don't hold back. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I've never written Criminal Minds fanfiction. Until now. I hope everyone "sounds" right. I forgot to mention the timeline for this fic in the first chapter. But this chapter should clear that up. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews for the first chapter. Enjoy! **

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**Chapter 2**

Pristine wasn't the word David Rossi would use to describe the apartment. Organized was a better word.

Meticulous, maybe.

The headboard of the bed doubled as a bookcase. There was literature on child development as well as a varied fictional collection ranging from Stephen King's popular works to Fifty Shades of Grey. Space was left for trinkets and small framed pictures, but looked spaced out. Too empty in some places when compared to the neat overcrowding in others.

"So," Emily Prentiss drawled. She had been sent with him to look over Gabriella Lareens', the third victim's, apartment. "Hotch and Captain Raydor. That was something."

"Something. Yeah." They had made their way into the bedroom. While he was busy with the bed, Emily was examining the dresser. The bed was perfectly made, but missing a top blanket. According the officers working the case, that was something missing in each apartment. Why? Why take only the top blanket and make the bed perfectly?

"Gabriella loved her job," Emily commented.

He turned his head to see Emily pick up a stack of cards. On top was a sloppy drawing of a child and dark haired woman, herself and a student probably.

"There were pictures in the kitchen, too," Emily continued. "How often does anyone talk to Hotch that way?"

"She wasn't wrong." Rossi went back to looking at the bed. Kneeling down on one knee, he ran a gloved hand between the mattress and box-spring. "It's much easier to share information when you're sharing a room."

"I agree." Emily came to stand beside him. "Anything?"

"Other than the obvious. No." He stood up, but kept his eyes on the bed.

"Think he'll ask her out?" Emily's grin was ear to ear, displaying perfectly white teeth while her eyes were teasing.

He turned his head raising a single eyebrow in disbelief. "Really?"

Emily's head tilted to the side as she shrugged her shoulders. Most of her teeth were still on display but the shape of her mouth shifted from a smile to a grin with a downward pull. At least she had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "You're right. She'll probably ask him first."

Rossi rolled his eyes and walked towards the bedroom door. He could practically feel Emily's grin as she followed behind him.

* * *

"They weren't messing around when they said this place was spotless." Derek Morgan peered into the cabinet underneath the sink of Marissa Josa's small studio apartment. Habit had him checking out the plumbing after noting the missing cleaning supplies. She'd kept them under the sink fairly recently, as circles and spots from where chemicals had been placed were still visible.

"The question is why. Is it just a countermeasure or a compulsion?" Reid asked, drawing out the word 'compulsion' slightly.

"No, the question is how are we going to solve this case working with these people?" Derek countered as me moved from the sink to the refrigerator. It was the newest appliance in the apartment and gleamed brightly, though the inside reeked of spoiled food.

Reid stopped his examination of the bed to turn towards him, the corners of his mouth drew down and small folds of skin gathered between his eyebrows as they drew together. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Reid, it's obvious." Derek closed the refrigerator and opened the freezer. "They can't stand us. They're the elite of the LAPD, and their boss called us without telling them. In their place I'd hate us, too."

"Really?"

Derek didn't have to look at Reid to know the familiar look of confusion on the young genius's face. "Especially those two old guys."

"Flynn and Provenza?" Reid's voice was muffled.

Derek turned to see Reid laying on the floor looking under the bed. Somehow the kid could still manage to surprise him upon occasion. He lifted and dropped his eyebrows quickly before shaking his head. "Got something?"

"No," Reid replied as he raised himself up off the floor. "Nothing that hasn't already been noted. Do you think we should talk to the neighbors?"

Morgan shrugged. "It couldn't hurt."

"Do you really think they hate us?" Reid questioned, catching up with Derek at the door.

"I don't know about that." Derek answered, stepping outside and nodding at the police officer guarding the crime scene. "But they certainly don't want us here."

* * *

The building was more befit an obstacle course than a police station, but Aaron had found the break room without having to ask anyone they were supposed to be working with.

And he certainly needed a break. It was never good when local law enforcement didn't want them there. It's why the BAU required an invitation before joining an investigation. That way if a problem arose, it was just a matter of saying "you're the one who invited us." However, it wasn't uncommon for someone higher up on the chain of command to request their help despite objections from those actually investigating the case, and, thereby, create a hostile work environment for everyone involved. He would have to speak to Chief Taylor before they went back to D.C. This couldn't happen again.

Before that conversation was to take place, however, he needed a break. Finding a glass of water, he took a seat at one of the tables and looked over the case files. He looked carefully at the pictures from the first two scenes, noting the absences of complete bedding despite an otherwise perfectly made bed. He was looking closely at the pictures each victim kept in their home when J.J. found him several minutes later.

"Hey." J.J. came to sit across from him. "Emily just called. They're on their way back. Reid and Morgan should be here soon, too. They want to compare notes before giving victimology."

"Good." Hotch nodded and finished off his water before putting away the files he was studying. "I need to speak with Chief Taylor for a moment. I should be done before Rossi and Prentiss get back."

J.J. nodded. "Should we wait until tomorrow to present it? It's already pretty late, and victimology doesn't usually help locate the victim."

"Are the detectives headed home?" He felt his head cock to the side slightly as he stood up. That didn't seem like a likely scenario.

"No." J.J. stood as well. "Actually, they seem to be hoping you'll give them anything to go on why they wait for word from their lab about the garbage found from the last victim's apartment."

"Hmm…" An almost unperceivable tug at the corners of his lips and quickly raised eyebrows were the only outward signs of amusement. "They've decided we can be helpful then?"

"More like they're almost desperate enough to consult a psychic." J.J.'s deadpan delivery of the line was enough to make his smile grow fractionally, despite that they both knew it wasn't far from the truth.

"Thank you, J.J." He walked out the door of the break room, files in hand, and made a right.

"Hotch!" J.J. called after him.

He turned, looking at here through the glass wall.

She pointed the other direction. "The Chief's office is that way."

It wasn't a building. It was a maze. "Thank you."

* * *

Walking down the hallway past the badges of the officers lost in the line of duty, Aaron couldn't help but wonder whose idea it was to paint only one hallway orange and everything else blue. Coming to the door of the Chief's office, he moved to open it but found it locked. His confusion must have shown because the receptionist smiled before buzzing him in.

"Thank you." He smiled back to her. "Is Chief Taylor available?"

Before the receptionist could respond, the door to Taylor's office opened and Captain Raydor stepped out. She seemed calm enough: determined and composed. If she'd just emerged from an argument with the Chief, it wasn't obvious by her body language.

"He is now," the receptionist responded with a smile before turning her attention to Captain Raydor. "Sharon."

Captain Raydor smiled. "Have a good night, Abigale."

"You too."

The Captain turned her attention to him, and he was sure she knew why he wanted to speak to Taylor. He was also suddenly sure she'd just been speaking to him about the same thing. "Agent Hotchner, how is your team coming along?"

"They're on their way back now."

"Good." She gave a quick lived smile and headed towards the door.

Once she left, he turned to the receptionist, Abigale. "Think she warmed him up for me?"

Abigale leaned towards him conspiratorially with a smile, though her tone was completely serious. "When she's upset about something, people never have to ask."

The Chief appeared in his own doorway and moved to close it before he caught sight of Hotchner. Taylor didn't try to hide his eye roll, and Hotch understood the receptionist's meaning. The Chief was obviously very aware of why he wanted to speak to him.

Hotchner gave a tight lipped smile. Rossi once told him that particular smile made him look predatory.

"Come in, Agent Hotchner, come in."

* * *

Someone had just put on a fresh pot of coffee and there wasn't quite enough for a full cup yet. David was thankful for the small favor anyway as he moved around the break room. He and Emily had only just returned, but he was going to need more coffee before explaining what they'd learned in terms of victimology.

He searched the cabinets for a disposable cup while listening to the percolator. He hesitated to use one of the mugs from the cupboard. People could be touchy about others using their mug even if it was cleaned afterwards. He sighed in resignation as he opened the top cabinet and studied the various mugs for a moment before choosing a plain white one from the back that looked rarely used.

After rinsing the dust off, he began the search for cream. In the door of the refrigerator he found a half empty bottle of sugar free hazelnut creamer. He checked the expiration date. It went out of date in week-a few days after Mother's Day actually. He could only assume the person who bought it wouldn't mind if he helped use up some of the bottle.

Creamer in hand, he returned to the coffee pot and filled his mug two-thirds of the way to the top with dark rich coffee. He added just enough creamer to fill the mug three-quarters of the way watching as the white cream fell below the dark surface adjusting the color to a more inviting shade. There were plastic coffee stirrers on the counter, and he used one to hurry the mesmerizing color change along before he returned the cream to the refrigerator. A smile had formed at some point, but he only noticed when he felt it grow as he brought the mug to his lips in order inhale the aroma.

David rolled his shoulders as he walked the short distance back to the Murder Room. As soon as this was over, there would be nothing to do until tomorrow. He could go to the hotel and sleep for a few hours. Hopefully, when he woke up, he'd find out that the lab had finished analyzing the trash, and that it was filled with fingerprints and DNA. They could quickly identify the responsible party, find him, have him say where the girls are, and they could all go their separate ways.

After this was over, he could go home and write a book focusing on cooperation between different law enforcement agencies. It would be therapeutic if nothing else.

Everyone seemed to be waiting on him in what he'd heard them call the "Murder Room." Extra chairs had been moved into the area for them, but only JJ and Reid, both sitting at the spare desk, were taking advantage of them. Hotch was speaking to Raydor near the door of her office, while Prentiss, Reid, and Morgan were standing near the extra desk.

Several of the detectives were standing as well. The most seasoned of them was working on another crossword puzzle at his desk. Rossi knew detectives like him. Despite his outward disinterest, he was the sort of detective you wanted working your homicide. The sort of person who'd seen it all…twice. His partner stood next to him glaring at each of them in turn. The all bark but very little bite type. Skyes was making small adjustments to the whiteboard while speaking to their tech support guy. Buzz is what they called him. Sanchez and "the other Reid"...Tao, maybe?... were each working on their computers.

He caught Hotch's eye, who nodded, and directed Captain Raydor to join them closer to the board.

"If everyone's ready?" Hotch spoke directly to Captian Raydor who nodded and went to sit on the edge of Provenza's desk.

Provenza lowered his crossword puzzle in order to roll his eyes and glare at the Captain's back. Apparently, one only got away with doing that if one outranked him, and clearly the Captain knew that. Rossi wondered about that for a moment before he realized she was doing it as subtle reminder to him about who was in charge and to keep him in check. Or maybe her feet were just tired from standing in those heels all day. It wasn't until she gave him a tight expectant smile that he realized he hadn't been subtle in his observations. He cleared his throat and smiled back before shifting his attention to Hotch.

"If everyone is ready…" Hotch began, waiting for everyone to focus on him.

The detectives turned their attention towards Hotch. It was silent for a moment as Hotch looked at everyone as though waiting on something.

It was Reid who figured out what he was waiting on. "Umm…usually, people like to take notes."

Rossi tried not to wince. An explosion was coming.

Provenza and Flynn rolled their eyes in unison, each looking ready to jump on the doctor. Rossi was tempted to let them. For a profiler, Reid sometimes missed pretty obvious things. Then again, apparently, so did Hotch. Derek looked ready to come to Reid's defense, but none of it was necessary.

"Notes?" Amy Sykes asked brightly, a smile and youthful optimism firmly in place. "Why would we need to take notes?" She didn't give Reid a chance to reply. Instead, she took a couple of steps towards the doctor and gently plucked the paper he was holding from his hand. "You've already jotted down the notes for us." Still smiling, she returned to the whiteboard and pinned the paper with all the highlights to the board. Turning back around, she resumed giving Hotch her full attention.

David brought his coffee to his lips to hide his smile. He liked her. Across from him, he caught sight of Captain Raydor again. She was also hiding her amusement behind a coffee mug.

Hotch cleared his throat. "Right. Just to be clear, all we've developed so far is victomology. It's not much, and to be honest it usually doesn't tell us where the victims are. It's more a tool to help us build a profile. However, in the spirit of cooperation, we're more than eager to update you on our progress." Hotch gestured to him.

David finished his sip of coffee before speaking. "What we know so far is that all the victims were roughly about the same age: twenty-eight to thirty-two. As you know, they had all recently reported domestic violence a few weeks before their abductions. These women came from all walks of life: teacher, actress, librarian, and retail associate. They don't look alike."

"Tell us something we don't know," Sanchez commented from behind him.

Rossi turned to him. "Other than the domestic abuse, do you know what one thing these women had in common?"

The detective was silent, staring back at him. "Right. But so as not to insult your skills and experience, I'll cut to the chase. None of these women reported more than one instance of domestic violence. In fact, in all their statements, they very clearly say that nothing like this had happened before, and they all took measures to make sure it didn't happen again."

Derek picked up where Rossi left off. "We all know what the statistics say about women who are abused. We can spot a textbook case a mile away. We've all seen it before. These women were the exception. It only took one instance of abuse for them to remove themselves from the situation. They did everything right. They called the cops. They pressed charges. Two of them changed the locks on their doors. One moved."

"Only one instance of abuse that we know of," Tao commented.

Reid answered this time. "That's true. However, all of them sought medical attention afterwards to have their injuries documented, and if there were signs of previous abuse, it wasn't documented at the hospital. Also, the first victim, Karla Brown, had been seeing her boyfriend for only a month before the DV incident."

"Clearly," Prentiss jumped in, "these were strong women who had every desire to keep their lives on track. There is evidence they removed all pictures of their abuser from their homes." Emily moved to the whiteboard and pinned a picture of Gabriella's headboard. "You'll notice how most sections are filled, overflowing with books, knickknacks, and pictures while others seem have more open space. Like something is missing. When you take into consideration that no pictures of their abusers were found in any of these homes, it's clear these women were ready to move on with their lives."

"It doesn't tell us much," Hotch repeated, "but from who these women are we can say that our UNSUB is confident in his abilities. He's not choosing high risk victims. These women are low risk. He'd see them as a challenge because they'd put up a fight. Which is probably why he has to clean the apartment afterwards."

Silence fell.

Amy was the one who broke it. "You weren't kidding when you said that doesn't help much."


	3. Chapter 3

**HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!**

**This chapter has nothing to do with Mother's Day. However, there will be an upcoming scene in a future chapter involving a little, tiny, Mother's Day treat for Sharon.**

* * *

Unlocking the door to her condo, she pushed it open only to be greeted with the sounds of conversation. The voices were low and strange. She couldn't make out the exact words, but it was obviously not the television. A quick glance at her watch told her it was just past seven. Rusty should be home by now. Just Rusty. She'd changed the locks so Jack couldn't be here. She'd recognize his voice anyway.

She kept her purse, which also held her service weapon, with her as she rounded the corner and stepped into the small dining room.

She forced a smiled out of habit.

She had guests.

Or rather, Rusty had guests. Three of them. Two young women and a young man. She was relieved to note they were all close to his age, at least.

"Hey," Rusty raised the pencil in hand up in an almost wave.

"Hi," she managed to say as she, with reluctance, removed her hands from her purse strap attempting to adopt a more relaxed posture. This was his home too. He was legally an adult. If he wanted to have friends over, there was nothing wrong with that. Especially, since- going by the books and papers spread out over the table- it appeared as though they were studying.

Rusty gave her an odd look. "Umm…so the school library was closed because of a water main break. Apparently, the whole thing is flooded."

"Rusty said we could come here and study for our final tomorrow," one of the girls piped up, flashing Sharon a huge grin. "You don't mind, right?"

"No, no, of course not," Sharon replied, knowing it was the right response, but feeling incredibly uneasy with strangers in her home that she hadn't been expecting.

She was rewarded with smiles from all of the kids at her dining room table. She hoped her own smile didn't look as forced as it felt. It wasn't that she didn't want Rusty bringing friends over. He deserved to try and have a normal life despite Philp Stroh. She was thrilled he had friends, honestly. It was just unexpected and she was tired. Their case was getting nowhere, and she'd ended up sending everyone home for a full night's rest. They needed a break if they were going to be of any use to Marissa or the other women.

Guilt mixed with her unease fairly rapidly. Just because she'd had several long frustrating days at work recently didn't mean he wasn't allowed to have friends over.

"How's your case?" Rusty asked.

"Oh, yeah." The other young man at the table grew excited. "Rusty said you're one of the detectives looking for the missing women on TV."

"That's right," she agreed. Their expectant gazes made her realize they were waiting to hear something more. She gave them the same answer she'd given the reporters waiting for her outside the parking garage. "The FBI is lending us a hand now, so hopefully we'll have some answers soon."

Rusty smirked at the standard answer, and the girl who'd yet to speak seemed amused by it as well. The other two seemed sufficiently impressed, however.

"That sounds exciting. Do you get to work with the FBI a lot?" the girl with the flashing grin asked.

"Sometimes," Sharon answered before changing the subject. "What subject are you working on?"

"Psychology," Rusty replied.

"It's going to be a really hard test," the talkative girl with the flashy smile replied. Sharon couldn't help but wonder if she was always so cheerful. "You see, the professor thinks multiple choice tests are too easy and don't show if you actually know the answer." She rolled her eyes. "So, basically, we now have to do this stupid fill in the blank and essay questions thing. Which is ridiculous. Don't you think? Of course we know the answers. We're studying, aren't we?"

"I'm sure you'll do very well." She glanced towards the kitchen and moved towards it before giving herself an opportunity to escape from her own living room. She would not do anything to discourage Rusty from bringing friends home, and she needed to eat something before bed. She dropped her purse in one of the barstools before beginning the search of her kitchen.

"Have you had dinner yet?" she asked more out of habit than politeness. She mentally winced at her own words. Her older kids would have been unreasonably embarrassed if she'd offered to cook for their friends when they were teenagers. However, She couldn't even bring herself to regret the words once they were out of her mouth. The four of them looked at her, and suddenly they all looked incredibly hungry. And Rusty didn't look embarrassed or angry.

The girl who hadn't said anything yet finally broke her silence. "You don't have to make anything for us, ma'am. We'll be fine."

Sharon decided she liked the quiet one. "How about pizza?" It wasn't her meal of choice for the night, but it was easy. And tradition dictated it was best when eaten while studying. She left her kitchen to search through her purse, and, finding her wallet, she removed her bank card. She returned her purse to her shoulder and handed Rusty her card. "Order what you'd like. Just make sure there are a few slices of cheese for me."

* * *

She placed both hands on her lower back, locating her duty belt, and moved her hands over it, checking to be sure everything was in its place. She was only satisfied when her hands met in the front. It was a habit developed years ago, and her increase in rank hadn't dissipated the ritual. With her hands still on her belt, Sharon glanced quickly in the mirror on her closet door before stepping out of her bedroom.

It was Wednesday morning. Two days had passed with no new leads. The lab analysis of the trash from Marissa Josa's apartment was a dead end. Other than finding her hair and toothbrushes, there were no fingerprints or DNA to be found that belonged to their suspect, or UNSUB as the BAU liked to call him. She had remained secluded in her bedroom most of the night giving the kids room to talk and study while she caught up on rest. She had joined them briefly when the pizza arrived. Once she'd finished eating, she'd left them with a request to keep the noise to a minimum so she could get some rest. It had been almost a week since Marissa Josa was last seen. It had been two days since they'd searched her apartment, and they were no closer now to finding her or the other women than they were before.

Obviously, a goodnight's sleep had made her feel more optimistic, she thought sarcastically.

She stepped into the kitchen to find the refrigerator open. Rusty turned his head in her direction.

"Morning." Rusty rubbed his eye with a knuckle.

"Good morning. You're up early."

Rusty yawned. "The schedule is different during finals week. I have to be there an hour and a half earlier today."

She smiled. "I see."

She stepped into the kitchen, her hand resting on his shoulder as she leaned around him so she could pull out a bowl of fruit she'd cut up previously. "How did studying go last night?"

Rusty shrugged. "Pretty good, I guess. We'll find out today."

"I'm sure you'll do fine." She rubbed her hand in small back and forth movements on his shoulder briefly before getting a fork, then going to sit on one of the barstools.

Rusty glanced at her bowl of fruit then back into the refrigerator before sighing. He closed the refrigerator and grabbed a fork from the drawer. She smiled when he stood across from her over the counter and stuck his fork in a piece of honeydew. Only after he had the fruit half way to his mouth did he stop and look at her as though asking for permission. She nodded, her smile still firmly in place.

Her older kids had never thought twice about eating right off her plate. Sometimes they'd take the fork from her hand. She never thought twice about letting that happen. At most she had given them a reproachful look if the circumstances warranted it. More often than not, they didn't.

Rusty, on the other hand, had only recently tried anything like that. They lived together for weeks before he'd asked to try a bite of something new that she'd ordered at a restaurant. Months before he'd accept food from her plate that she couldn't finish. It was nice to see him relaxed enough to share a bowl of fruit with her for breakfast.

"How many finals do you have today?" she asked before spearing a piece of cantaloupe.

"Two. Psychology and history."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he'd studied for the history one as well, but he was in college now. He didn't need her to remind him to study for all his tests.

"And, before you ask," he sounded only mildly exasperated as he demonstrated his mind reading abilities, but smiled regardless. "I studied for the history exam, too."

She found herself chuckling silently, and her shoulders rose and fell in the process. "I'm glad to hear that."

They ate breakfast in silence for a few minutes.

"Sharon?" He didn't wait for a response. "You don't mind that I invited people over to study, right."

"Of course not, honey." She thought for a second. "In the future, however, a text message warning me that there are people in my house would be appreciated."

"You're sure?" Rusty's eyes met hers briefly before returning to the half empty bowl of fruit.

"Yes. Very sure. And thank you for cleaning up after yourselves last night."

Rusty shrugged. "Katie insisted they could take the garbage out with them when they left since it was on the way."

Katie was the quiet one if she remembered correctly. She liked the quiet one. "That was very kind of her."

"Yeah," Rusty ate another piece of fruit. "Her dad is a cop. Not with the LAPD. He works with the Sheriff's Office."

"Really?"

Rusty nodded.

She pushed the last piece of fruit towards him with her fork. He popped it in his mouth before taking the bowl to the sink.

"I'll probably be back late tonight," she told Rusty as she stood from the barstool.

"Okay." He began heading towards the hallway.

"Good luck on your exams." She called after him as she moved towards the door.

"Thanks." His voice was slightly muffled by the distance.

* * *

"I'm telling you-" Andy started to say before he went quiet at the sight of the approaching FBI agent.

Derek gave him a faint smile. "Want some help?" he offered, noticing that the two most senior detectives were gathered over something near Provenza's desk.

"We're good. Thanks."

"All right. But, uh, I think it's supposed to go the other way," Derek said with a shrug.

Flynn looked down as Provenza flipped the toner cartridge over, watching as it slid easily into the printer.

"Hey," momentarily forgetting that he still didn't like the FBI agent, Flynn said with a smile. "That worked. Thanks."

Provenza rolled his eyes. "Tell me again why this couldn't wait for Buzz to get here?"

This time it was Flynn's turn to roll his eyes.

Derek chuckled. Work could never be boring with those two around. He moved to look at the pictures on the Murder Board. "I still can't believe the trash was clean. Why does a person even make sure the stuff they're throwing out doesn't have fingerprints or DNA on it?"

"It did have DNA," Flynn corrected.

"Marissa Josa's DNA," Provenza added.

"Right." Derek sighed. "How is that possible? This guy had to clean up a huge mess. How does he do that without leaving his own DNA somewhere?"

"He vacuumed some of it up," Flynn answered, coming to stand in front of the pictures. "One of the neighbors saw him remove a vacuum from one of the girls' apartment."

"What if it wasn't a vacuum, though?" Derek suggested. "Marissa's place had recently been steam cleaned."

Provenza shook his head. "We asked SID about that. They concluded it was vacuumed _after_ it was steam cleaned. Considering she'd just moved in to get away from her abusive husband, it's more likely she's the one who cleaned it, and our guy just vacuumed over it."

"Damn it," Derek swore. "We could have looked into steam cleaning rentals. Gotten a lead."

Flynn empathetically clapped the FBI agent's shoulder.

* * *

"What is that, anyway?" Aaron was sitting across from Rossi in the Break Room.

"Lunch. The meal commonly served between coffee and dinner."

Aaron gave a small amused smirk. "I realize that. Thank you."

"I got it from the little cafeteria downstairs. It's supposed to be Chicken Pot Pie."

"I think they forgot the chicken."

"I think they forgot that pies have an inside." Rossi stuck his fork in again anyway. He'd eaten worse, and the closest place to eat besides the cafeteria was across from the parking garage that was three blocks away.

"I'm going to call Garcia, see if she's found any connection between our victims other than the DV incidents," Aaron said after taking the last bite of his sandwich. "I'll let you know if she's found something."

David thought that last line unnecessary, but nodded anyway. Of course, Aaron would tell everyone if Garcia found something. Come to think of it, they'd never have to ask Garcia because she'd tell them anyway. He kept his eyes on his food as Hotch stepped out of sight, but turned his head when he heard Hotch speak.

"Captain," Hotch held the door open for her as she stepped though.

"Thank you," Sharon smiled politely as Hotch left the Break Room. She caught sight of Rossi soon after. "Agent Rossi."

"Captain." He acknowledged before returning to his food. He managed to finish off the pot pie in three more bites before deciding he needed coffee to get the taste out of his mouth.

Setting the paper bag containing her sandwich and apple on the counter Sharon returned to the refrigerator, she pulled out her sugar-free hazelnut creamer. She didn't normally drink this much coffee, but she was determined to use it up before it went bad.

The creamer felt much emptier than it had last time she used it. Someone had been helping her it seemed. She couldn't bring herself to mind really. At least it wasn't going to waste.

"We're going to need to use that up pretty soon," Rossi commented from beside her.

At least she knew who'd been helping her with the creamer now.

"You're welcome to as much as you'd like." She poured herself some creamer before handing the container to him.

"Thanks." He went about making himself a cup while she added coffee to her own mug. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't ask first. Cops can be picky about their coffee, I know."

"It's fine. I'd rather it be used than have to throw it away."

Rossi nodded. "I'm guessing you're more of a tea drinker anyway."

She nodded and took a sip of her coffee before the suggestion of a smirk crossed her features. "Didn't I hear Agent Jareau mention a rule about profiling the people you're working with?"

"Internal agency regulations are confidential information. I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of such a rule."

"Ahh, I see." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she picked up her lunch bag. "I should get back to work."

"Lunch and paperwork. That will give you indigestion, you know?" Rossi joked.

"I have lots of overtime to justify."

"Good luck." Rossi raised his mug as though to toast her, and returned the smile as she turned and left the break room.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Sharon walked out of her office with a determined controlled pace despite her well hidden excitement. "I just got a call from Lt. Davis in the Commercial Auto Theft Section—"

"Did you tell the CATS to play in their own litterbox because we've got bigger problems?" Provenza interjected.

"They raided a chop shop this morning," Sharon continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "One of the cars they found had the VIN and plates removed, but was a red '98 Toyota Camry with blood on the upholstery."

Without further instruction, every member of her team was on their feet grabbing their gear.

"Reid, Prentiss, Morgan, go with them," Hotch ordered, even though the agents were already gearing up as well.

"Where?" Sanchez asked as he buttoned his jacket.

"North Hollywood. Lt Davis just texted me the address." Raydor handed her phone to Amy who scribbled the address on a piece of paper before ripping it off the legal pad and joining the others as they headed towards the elevator.

Hotch and Rossi came to stand by her as they watched their teams leave.

* * *

**So, CATS is an actual division of the LAPD. I decided to look up what division of the LAPD would raid a chop shop. And laughed a little. Then decided that whoever makes up names like CATS and SOB for divisions in the LAPD has a great since of humor. *applauds that person***

**Thoughts?**


	4. Chapter 4

**So there are people I should thank for this story that I just realized I've forgotten to thank. Oops. :D **

**That said...many, many, thanks to to LadyLanera for beta'ing. Also, many, many, thanks to SChimes for allowing me to use her as a sounding board and telling me to show "no restraint whatsoever."**

* * *

Provenza knew that the red Toyota Camry was Marissa Josa's car. He also now knew that the cars of the other victims were long gone.

"There are fingerprints all over the car," Tao informed everyone as Buzz recorded his every move from the passenger's side of car.

CATS had left the car where they found it in the garage. It was nothing short of luck that they'd busted the chop shop that morning. And Provenza had personally thanked the officer in charge of the bust for checking each car himself and noticing the bulletin that Major Crimes had out on the car. Which just went to show how desperate he was for a new lead. CATS was still processing all the other cars in the garage and on the street in order to wrap up their investigation so they'd given Major Crimes full access to the car.

"And from first glance, I'd say they belong to at least six individuals," Tao continued, sitting behind the driver's wheel of the Camry. "We'll have to wait for SID to collect them all and examine them more closely, but I'd guess that quite a few belong to the members of this little chop-shop club."

"I have no doubt. Amy, Julio, go talk with someone from CATS about having the guy who runs this place brought up to the ninth floor when they're finished with him. Or offer to take him there yourselves. I don't care as long as he gets there. With luck we won't have to speak to everyone who "works" here." He watched Amy and Julio nod in acceptance before turning away, however, before he could comment further, Agent Prentiss interrupted him.

"There's not a lot to go on here. Do we know where our guy dumped the car?"

"I'll be sure to ask during the interview," Provenza replied. "Now, if you don't mind…"He turned back to Mike, but was interrupted again.

"He may not have dumped it," Flynn added. "He may have sold it to the shop."

"Or maybe he works at the shop?" Morgan added from his spot next to Flynn. "But that doesn't seem likely considering how meticulous this guy is."

Provenza rolled his eyes. "All questions we can get answers to IN THE INTERVIEW. Right now, can we please focus on the car? Mike, what about the blood?"

He saw Agent Morgan and Flynn smirking from the corner of his eye. Hopefully, before this case was over, there'd be some more dumpsters for the two them to go though.

"There's not a whole lot of it." It was Doctor Reid who answered instead of Tao, as he looked into the backseat of the car. "Whoever it belongs to may have survived, but…"

"But," Tao picked up, "given the length of time Marissa has been missing and that the hospital alerts have turned up nothing, it's a good bet that if that blood is hers, she's no longer alive."

"Fantastic," Provenza exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. "Anyone else have good news?" he asked sarcastically. This was going to be another long disappointing day, he knew it already. He shook his head. "Let's finish up here and head on over to the interview. Maybe _that_ will shed some light on this. Flynn, call the Captain and let her know what's going on."

"This guy clearly knows what he's doing," Prentiss volunteered. "He knows the best ways to get rid of evidence. Not only did he give this car to a chop shop, but he removed the VIN. Technically, we can't even be sure this is Marissa's car."

"If he took it here," Morgan added, "it could have been stolen from the UNSUB."

"I wouldn't bet on that, Agent Morgan," Provenza chimed in. "This is the only car that hasn't been broken down that's missing a VIN according to CATS."

"This UNSUB is obviously taking precautions to cover his tracks," Reid added, as he examined the open trunk of the car.

"No kidding, Doctor." Provenza almost asked how many Ph.D.'s it required to state the obvious, but didn't have the energy for that argument. "Mike, once you're done, make sure SID knows this car takes priority over all the others."

"Lieutenant," Buzz's voice was quiet.

"What is it, Buzz?" Provenza's exasperation was clearly evident.

"You're standing in oil."

Provenza looked down. One of his custom made shoes was indeed soaking up motor oil. Great. Just what he needed.

* * *

"Captain, I really think it would be best if one of my people interviewed the suspect." Aaron Hotchner kept his voice even despite his obvious irritation.

Sharon's voice was equally as even as she sat across her desk from Agent Hotchner. "One of your people is more than welcome to join one of mine, Agent Hotchner."

"Will all due respect, Captain, my team has been specially trained in interview techniques." Hotch lightly drummed his fingers of his left hand on his knee.

"I'm sure they are all very capable individuals. However, the FBI has no legal authority in this case. There are no federal laws that allow you to negotiate with Mr. Capuzzo, who has his lawyer with him, already." Her eyes briefly shifted to the open blinds behind Agent Hotchner before moving back to him. She smiled politely. "Someone from the DA's office should be here in a moment, and I have no doubt that Mr. Capuzzo will very easily tell us everything we need to know in order to get a reduced sentence."

"I understand your desire to be involved, Captain, but it would be more beneficial to the case if my team were to interview the suspect."

A part of her wondered if he were being this obstinate in order to irate her because she wouldn't let him have his own room. "As I said, Agent Hotchner, one member of your team is more than welcome to join Detective Sanchez in the interview."

Julio was maybe not the best person to put in an interview in front of the FBI. However, he'd been doing better at controlling his temper, and this suspect was unlikely to cause any trouble or anger her volatile detective. It would mostly be the lawyers talking, anyway.

"I'm not sure you understand the complexity of this case, Captain."

Sharon raised an eyebrow, and her smile grew.

* * *

"They're arguing, again," Reid informed everyone as they all watched what could only be a heated argument between their even-tempered supervisors. Well, as heated as an argument can get when both parties maintain the same patient, even, controlled, tone. How that tone could be scarier than yelling Reid didn't really understand.

"Obviously, Einstein," Flynn added, standing next to Tao's desk. "Did their posture's and the Captain's tight lipped smile tip you off or did you read their minds?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Reid replied obliviously as he stared unabashed at the two supervisors.

Flynn rolled his eyes.

"I still say they'd be cute together," Prentiss added, catching herself just in time as she almost sat on the corner of Provenza's desk.

"Seriously?" J.J. made a face. "I think—" she cut herself off saying nothing for a moment before continuing thoughtfully. "I think you're right."

Flynn laughed. "You're kidding? Do you really think? The two of them?" He shook his head.

Julio chuckled along with Flynn. "She'd eat him for breakfast."

"Enough, please," Provenza spoke up loudly even as he watched the Captain and Agent Hotchner over his crossword puzzle. "I've known her for longer than I've ever been married to one woman. I don't need to know more about her than I already do."

"Yes, please," Rossi added before glancing towards Provenza, "thank you." Speaking to members of his own team, he continued, "I know way too much about Hotch and all of you as it is."

"As if either of them would ever mix their personal and professional lives," Amy added, standing in front of the murder board in such a way that if necessary she could easily pretend to be working on something. Though like the others she made very little effort not to watch the meeting going on in the Captain's office.

"What happens if they realize we're watching them?" Buzz asked quietly, clearly not yet comfortable speaking too much in front of their "guests."

"The Captain already knows. She's glanced this way at least twice," Tao commented. "She just doesn't care that much. Kathy is a lot like that. She says she's used to having an audience since she's never had a minute of privacy since the kids were born. There was a study done that said in a typical day a mother only gets- on average- seventeen minutes to herself a day. If you take into consideration-"

"Tao!" Provenza cried in exasperation.

"Wow," Derek said after a minute silence. "He _is_ just like Reid."

Tao adopted his "what?" expression, his mouth frozen in place while his eyebrows came together in wrinkled confusion.

No one attempted to hide their chuckles.

* * *

"What is the deal you're offering my client?" The curly haired, thin, glasses wearing Public Defense Attorney Rowling Jennings asked from his place across the table.

"That depends on what he tells us," DDA Rios replied. "If the information he provides leads to the arrest of a suspect, I'm offering to erase your client's third strike so that he may be eligible for parole. But ONLY if it leads to an arrest."

Sharon watched the interview on the monitors in the electronics room, and hoped that one day Mr. Jennings and Emma would date. They would be cute together. Until then, however, they were fun to watch as they worked.

Jennings conferred quietly with his client for a moment before returning his attention back to Emma. "I assume you have that in writing already, DDA Rios?"

Emma pushed a single sheet of paper towards the attorney who glanced at it quickly before nodding to his client.

Julio spoke next, "Tell me about the '98 red Toyota Camry."

Mr. Capuzzo shrugged in his orange jumpsuit. "There's not much to tell. Some guy was waiting outside the shop with it. Said he wanted to get rid of it. He practically gave it away, man."

"How much did you give him for it?" Julio asked.

"Four-hundred dollars cash."

"You always carry that much cash on you?"

"I always do business in cash."

Julio nodded and said nothing for a few minutes. Sharon watched as Agent Morgan glanced at Julio, then continue to watch their illegal entrepreneur. The two of them made an intimidating pair, though she hardly saw the necessity of intimidation in this situation.

"This guy who sold it to you. Do you know his name?" Julio was patient, at least, even if his glare said otherwise.

"I didn't ask."

"When did you see him last?" Bored. Sharon decided. Julio was not being patient. That was her own wishful thinking. He was bored.

"Saturday night when he sold me the car. That was the first time I saw him, too." Capuzzo adjusted himself in the chair.

"Was there anyone with him."

Capuzzo shook his head. "No. It was just him."

"Walk us through it," Derek finally spoke from behind Julio.

Sharon leaned forward just slightly in anticipation.

"Saturday night some guy just walked into the garage. I wasn't with no one because it was so late. I thought he was lost or something, but he just asked if I'd be interested in buying a car." Mr. Capuzzo shrugged, again.

"You didn't find that strange?" Julio asked. "Some guy just walks in and asks if you want a car."

Capuzzo shook his head, and lifted his hands up slightly. "It happens. Gang members sell me their cars all the time. Its how I stay in business."

"What happened next?" Derek refocused the conversation.

"I went out and took a look at the car. The plates and VIN were already gone, so I figured it was stolen. I offered him four hundred and he took it. I went back inside for the money, handed it to him, and he walked off."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Julio asked.

Capuzzo shook his head. "No. It was dark. And he was wearing a hoodie. He was acting kinda like he didn't want to be seen. Which happens a lot. I thought he was in gang and just trying to get rid of a hot car."

Sharon leaned back in the chair slightly. Another dead end.

* * *

Sharon was pouring over a case file when there was gentle rapping on the door before it opened slowly. She looked up expecting to see Provenza, and only when her eyes caught sight of the person in the doorway did she remember that Provenza had left already.

"Agent Rossi." She slipped her feet back into the shoes she'd removed from her tired feet earlier. "I thought you'd left with everyone else."

He nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, sometimes I like to go over things after everyone has left. It's quieter. I was about to head out, now, and was wondering if you'd fallen asleep while justifying overtime."

She smiled slightly. It was about all she could do. She glanced down at the case spread out in front of her. Philp Stroh's DMV photo stared back at her.

Rossi took a couple of steps closer to her desk. "That doesn't look like time sheets or overtime paperwork."

"It's another case." She began to put the file back in order. It was time to go home for the night.

"I see." Rossi studied her closely, his eyes narrowing fractionally. "There's always another case."

"Yes, there is."

"This one must be pretty important to you, if you're staying late to go over it."

"Is there something else you needed, Agent Rossi?" She let some of her irritation slip through. Though she couldn't explain the sudden surge of defensiveness over the Stroh case.

"Well, yes..."

She tried to give an encouraging smile, but she had no doubt it came off as a "get on with it" smile. Hopefully, he'd take the hint. Now that he had distracted her from work she realized how badly she wanted to go home.

"This building is a maze. How do you get to the bathroom from here?"

She blinked.

He slowly allowed a grin to emerge.

She looked away, but despite her determination her shoulders shook with a laugh she wouldn't give voice to.

"Come on." He moved towards the door. "I'll share an elevator with you."

"How very gracious of you." She smiled despite the sarcasm in her voice, as she finished putting the file away and grabbed her purse.

"I do what I can." He held her office door open for her.

She flipped off the light as she passed.

* * *

"You're kidding me?" Garcia said over the computer screen.

"Nope." J.J. was sitting next to Emily at the small writing table in J.J.'s hotel room. "Hotch is going to flip soon."

"I don't know," Emily added, taking a sip of water. "It takes a lot to set Hotch off. He'll have to lose a lot of arguments to her first."

"I need to meet the woman who can out stubborn Hotch. This needs to happen. How can we make this happen?" Garcia rambled excitedly.

Emily laughed. "That's not even the best part."

"Oh?" Garcia leaned closer to the camera. "Tell me more, my darlings."

J.J. did as commanded, speaking slowly for emphasis. "Rossi can't take his eyes off of her."

Next to J.J., Emily nodded with a huge grin.

"Well, well," Garcia drawled. "Isn't that interesting? She out stubborns Hotch and bewitches our beloved Rossi."

"And he's clueless," Emily added.

"As shocking as that is," J.J. scoffed, "For a man with three ex-wives, he's completely oblivious to his own attraction to her."

"Okay," Garcia raised her hands up and began searching for something off screen. "Tell me everything about this woman."

"Umm…" J.J. made a face with the corners of her mouth pulling back. "I don't really know. She doesn't talk a lot."

"Oh, oh, this will never do." Having found what she was looking for, Garcia turned slightly away from the camera to type. "I will do a complete background on this woman. I will find out everything about her. Do not fear, and have a good night."

With the click of a button, Garcia ended the chat, leaving Emily and J.J. to look at each other before laughing.

* * *

**What can I say here? Hmm...I've got nothin'. **

**Oh! Tell me your predictions for...everything. I'm curious. **


	5. Chapter 5

**I actually didn't intend to finish this chapter here, but I got to a point where I said "this is a perfect last line of a chapter!" Admittedly, I'm not so sure you will think so. Oh, well, here it is. Enjoy!**

* * *

This was all Ricky's fault, Rusty thought as he caught someone throwing up nearby. Next time, he would ask Emily. She was clearly the smarter one in his opinion. A moment later, when yet another person started puking, Rusty grimaced and shook his head. He should've known Ricky's "Best thing ever" was complete crap. His eyes then caught Katie and he forced himself to smile at her when she met his eyes. At least one of them was having fun.

"Hey, dude. Come on. YOLO!" yelled one of the more obnoxious guys at the bonfire a few feet from him. An unopened beer then flew through the air towards Rusty, who caught it a moment later.

Rusty nodded slightly and was rather grateful when the small group turned away soon after.

When Katie had asked him to join her earlier, he had envisioned a fire crackling and popping with a group of college kids gathered around it, joking and playing around with each other under the night sky. Pieces of burning ash floating in the air like fireflies around them followed by another release and burst of bright light, bathing them in the warm orange light. And behind them, the waves crashing against the beach before retreating back into the sea in a soothing manner, casting a hypnotic spell. In other words, like how the TV made it seem. And it had stared out that way. Then, somehow, it turned into drunken frat boys making out with anyone and everyone they could get their hands on with the occasional puking or peeing intermission.

Stupid Ricky.

"You're not going to drink that, are you?"

Rusty turned, and instead of forcing a smile this time, he tried really hard to keep one from spreading all over his face. The guy in front of him was wearing khaki shorts and had apparently lost his t-shirt somewhere. Rusty found himself not caring about that detail.

"Umm…no, no I'm good." He stretched out the arm holding the beer. "You can have it."

"Thanks."

_He has a great smile_, Rusty thought. He felt himself grow a little warm when their fingers brushed as the can transferred hands a moment later. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

The young man winked at him before popping open the can easily, and Rusty's desire to smile waned quickly as he watched the beer being messily chugged.

Gross. He hoped that wasn't supposed to impress him.

Before the can was empty, another young man tackled the one Rusty had been speaking to, and Rusty backed away quickly before he had to watch more people trying to suck each other's faces off.

He was _so_ going to find a way to get back at Ricky for this.

He decided that he'd plot his revenge on the drive home. He reached into his pocket for his keys. As his fingers found the familiar cool metal, he sighed. Katie didn't have her own car, so he'd driven them both here. He had to make sure she had a way home with someone who wasn't drunk before he left.

Sand grittily pushed its way between his toes as he moved around the small groups gathered around the fire. He glanced at each of the people before he moved on to the next group. He'd just seen her a moment ago. Why was she being so hard to find now? People kept bumping into him, and he stepped in something wet that he hopped was just spilled beer.

Stupid Ricky.

Eventually, he saw her laughing with two other girls while sipping on a beer. He sighed in relief and kept his eyes focused on her as he worked his way through the crowd. Where had all these people come from? Katie said it was just going to be a few people and that's all that had been there at first. After a moment, he made it to her side and tapped her arm gently.

"Rusty!" she exclaimed happily as she turned around. Apparently, a few drinks made her less quiet.

"Hey." He was awkwardly aware that her other friends were watching. "I'm going to head home." When her eyes narrowed, he added quietly, "I'm completely beat from those finals."

"Awe!" She pouted, and before Rusty could stop her, she moved forward to hug him. He patted her back awkwardly. "I'll miss you!"

Obviously, she was at the "I love you, man" stage of being drunk because Rusty wasn't sure how else she could miss him when she hadn't spoken a word to him at all in the last half hour. "Yeah, me too. You've got another way to get home, right?"

Katie appeared to try and think for a moment as she swayed slightly.

"I'll take you," volunteered one of the girls watching the exchange.

Rusty didn't see a drink in that girl's hand, and she looked sober enough. He nodded, relieved.

"Oh!" Katie practically bounced, "that wou—"

"COPS!"

The scream out of nowhere cut off Katie's sentence, and Rusty saw her eyes grow huge before she took off running, the girl who'd volunteered to give her a ride close behind.

Rusty considered running himself for a moment. Mostly to get away from the mess that was going on around him. Several people were practically running over each other in a futile attempt to get away from the ten or so police officers approaching from all three sides that Rusty could now see forcing people to stop. A few people made it around the officers anyway, including Katie and her friend, Rusty noticed.

Stupid, idiotic, Ricky.

* * *

"Name." One of the officer's had finally made their way to him.

Rusty sighed. "Russell Beck."

"ID, please."

"It's in my pocket," Rusty explained, holding up an empty hand before slowly reaching towards his pocket.

"You've done this before, I see," commented the officer.

Rusty felt his face grow hot at the subtle accusation, but kept his temper in check. He wasn't that person anymore. He had changed. Yet the past always remained there. Besides how was being cautious a reason to assume he'd "done this before." Wouldn't anyone be careful under the circumstances? Wasn't it the smart thing to tell someone carrying a gun that you were about to reach for something in your pocket? He took a deep breath as he pulled his license from his wallet and handed it to the officer.

The officer studied it for a moment and looked him up and down with the flashlight.

Rusty stared back. It was too dark to read the officer's name tag, especially with a flashlight occasionally being shined in his face, but he saw the officer put his license separate from the others that had already been collected.

Great.

Rusty didn't know what that meant, but it probably wasn't good.

He wondered if there still was a tag on his name that said "Attention: Major Crimes" followed by "Important Material Witness" or "Serial Killer Target." He then thought for a moment. Did the kids of police officers have special tags on their names? Maybe if he told the police officer that Sharon was his mother . . . No. That would come off as though he were one of those snobby kids who thought that having a family member in law enforcement was a license to be an asshole. He could handle this without getting Sharon or anyone else involved. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything wrong.

He dug his feet deep into the heavy sand and wiggled his toes. He glanced towards the officers again. It looked like they were running everyone's names. There were about fifteen people left who either hadn't escaped or hadn't almost been immediately taken away to what Rusty assumed was the back of the police cruiser.

He pulled out his phone. No doubt they'd be administering breathalyzer tests soon, so he may as well do something constructive. There was an alert telling him he'd received a text message from Sharon.

_Have fun!_

He had tried calling her before he came to tell her that he was going out with some friends tonight, but when she hadn't answered, he'd sent a text. Obviously, he hadn't heard the beep that signaled her reply. He considered texting her now, but it was almost one in the morning. She was either already asleep or still at work. Besides, what could he say, "Hey, Sharon. So, I'm about to take a breathalyzer. Cool, huh? Just thought you should know. Found Stroh yet?"

She'd probably order the police to arrest him for that. Or worse: come down to the beach herself and start giving orders.

That could be amusing for a few minutes, at least, until she found him and gave him _that look. _The one that waited patiently to hear an explanation, while at the same time conveyed the message that it had best be a _good _explanation. That look always made him feel like a complete idiot because now that she was giving him it, he knew there wasn't a good explanation, and she'd be really disappointed when he told her what happened. He wanted to make her proud, not disappointed.

It was best not to get Sharon involved, so he wouldn't have to explain to her that Ricky was an idiot and clearly a disappointment to the whole family.

Instead, he took a picture of the police officers as surreptitiously as possible and sent it to Ricky. He received a reply about a minute later.

_Hahahaha! Good one, little brother! _was Ricky's text reply.

Jerk, Rusty thought, half-heartedly. It was still weird having an older brother.

_Not kidding. Thanks for the great advice._

Ricky's reply took longer to come this time. _WHAT DID YOU DO? DID YOU CALL MOM? _

Rusty almost rolled his eyes. Yeah, because calling Sharon would make things all better obviously.

_I didn't DO anything. Apparently, there's a regulation on bonfires in SoCal cause of the drought. And noise ordinances or something. I don't know._

Ricky's reply came faster again this time. _Little Brother, tell me you didn't go to a bonfire that wasn't organized by some college association. _

Rusty felt his eyebrows draw together in confusion even though he knew Ricky couldn't see him. _Why does that matter? _

_It matters a lot, _came Ricky's reply, followed immediately by another. _You should call mom. _

That was not going to happen. He'd been in far worse situations than this without anyone to call for help.

_I will if things don't go well. I'm sure they're going to let most of us go. At least those of us who weren't drunk off their ass or otherwise being a stupid idiot._

In other words, people who weren't like Ricky.

_Let me know what happens, Little Brother. _

And just like that, Rusty felt horrible for even _thinking_ Ricky was an idiot. Being a little brother was weird. And confusing.

_I will. Thanks. _

He aimlessly scrolled through the apps on his phone for a moment before one of the officers called him. "Russell Beck!"

His head jerked up, and he saw one of the officers motion him over. Taking another deep breath, he stood up and walked slowly towards the cops, one of which he saw had a breathalyzer waiting on him. Without complaint, he followed instructions, relieved to see that his blood-alcohol level read zero even though he knew there was no way for it to read anything else.

The officer who'd called for him nodded when he saw the results. "We're letting you off with a warning this time. Fire regulations are a serious matter, son, even if the fire is next to the ocean."

Rusty nodded, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Now, don't go getting any ideas or anything. This has nothing to do with you being the son of a high ranking officer. Got it?"

This guy obviously didn't know Sharon very well. "I won't."

The officer nodded solemnly and handed him his license. Rusty took that as a dismissal and, without rolling his eyes, began walking up the beach towards his car. He was going to have to ask Julio what the tag on his record said that got him special treatment.

Pulling out his phone, he texted Ricky one last time. _All good. Just got a warning about fire safety. Headed home now. _

Ricky's reply came too fast for him not to have been waiting for a text. _Good. Text me when you make it home. _

Behind the wheel of his car, Rusty stared at the text for a minute then, setting his phone in the cup-holder, started the car. Before Sharon, no one had cared if he made it home safe. Now, he had a whole family to worry over him, and for him to worry about. It was weird, but not a bad kind of weird.

* * *

Agent Rossi must have finished off her creamer. Sharon closed the fridge with an internal sigh. She'd actually felt like coffee tonight, too. She could always use the non-dairy creamer. She glared briefly at the offending carton tucked into the corner of the counter.

Tea would probably be better for her considering how late it was. Which, ironically enough, was the main contribution to her wanting coffee at the moment. She leaned against the counter, and swore she'd find the only pair of flats she owned to wear to work tomorrow. Her hand located the cell phone in her pocket. Rusty hadn't replied to her last text message, but she hadn't expected him, too. He was busy celebrating the end of a semester and finials with his friends.

The thought brought a small smile to her face. He had friends. And they were age appropriate, too. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn't have to give Rusty a mildly revised version of the talk she'd had with Emily about dating older men. He'd had her concerned about that briefly.

She looked up from her phone when the break room door opened, and she watched Rossi step through the door holding a grocery bag.

He noticed her a second after the door closed and holding up the bag gave her a small lopsided smile. "I have creamer if you're putting coffee on."

She wasn't sure if anyone had ever said anything so wonderful to her before in her life.

_Fine_, she admitted to herself, _that was an exaggeration_.

But not by much.

* * *

"You've finished your profile?" Sharon directed her question towards Agent Hotchner while she stood between Provenza and the Murder Board, coffee cup in hand.

"Does that mean you'll go home now?" Provenza questioned before SSA Hotchner could reply.

Sharon resisted the urge to rub her temples. Fortunately, the FBI was learning it was best to just ignore Provenza's quips.

"We have." Hotch stood next to Rossi who wore a relaxed smile behind his beard as he watched the exchange. He was the only FBI agent Sharon had ever seen wearing jeans to work who wasn't undercover.

The other agents quickly came around to gather in front of the Murder Board. Apparently, they expected this to be impressive. However, what Sharon found impressive was J.J. picking up a dry erase marker, ready to add notes to the Murder Board.

Derek Morgan began. "As you've probably figured out already, this UNSUB is a male in his mid to late thirties. Despite that two of his victims are Latino, it's more likely that he's Caucasian."

"He's charming," Rossi picked up, lowering his coffee, "at least at first. He'd be unable to maintain that façade for long, however, so it's doubtful he has a wife or anyone living with him. He takes being a control freak to the extreme."

"How can you know that?" Amy asked with a doubtful smile while sitting at her desk. "And how does that help us catch him?"

Hotchner answered the first part of the question. "Anyone so meticulous about cleaning and leaving evidence behind-without error- would maintain similar practices in all aspects of his life."

"So, what?" Flynn's voice carried as he shrugged with his arms crossed. "He's OCD or something?"

Reid took a step forward removing one hand from a pocket. Ready to go into lecture mode, his mouth opened, but his voice never emerged.

"No," Tao turned to Flynn. "OCD is an anxiety disorder. The person preforms some type of behavior or ritual to relieve their anxiety."

Reid cleared his throat awkwardly, his hand returning to its pocket. "This UNSUB is cleaning specifically to cover his tracks and control the environment, not to relieve anxiety."

"He has a steady job," Emily refocused the conversation. "One that allows him to have weekends, or at least every other weekend off. Which is why all these women disappear over that time period. He's using his time off to abduct them and cleanup afterwards. His job is one that also fosters his desire for power and control."

"His job," Rossi finished, "also offers him enough flexibility to stalk and get to know these women for quite some time as well. He knows they won't be missed over the weekend."

"Hold on," Sharon interrupted, raising her hand to signal for the FBI agents to pause. Her eyes then found the eyes of the civilian consultant. "Buzz…"

"I'll pull any video footage from near our victim's homes within a five mile radius that I can find." Buzz moved to his computer and began typing.

Lowering her arm, Sharon turned back to the FBI and waited for them to continue as she met Hotch's unreadable expression.

"This crime," Hotchner didn't take his eyes off of Raydor, "is entirely about power and control. Not just over the victims, but of law enforcement as well. He derives more pleasure from planning, abducting, and from alluding law enforcement than he does from anything he's doing to these women. Which is why he's targeting low risk women. He sees them as more of a challenge and derives more pleasure from gaining control over them."

Hotch didn't take break his gaze with Raydor as Derek once again picked up. "He lacks any form of a conscience. Narcissistic, with a hugely inflated sense of entitlement."

"When you catch him," Emily concluded, "he'll want to play games with you. He thinks he's the smartest person in the world and will want to show it off. But that doesn't mean he'll confess in the _legal_ sense. He's shown he's very careful and knows how to dispose of evidence. He'll be familiar with interview protocols and know how to use them to his advantage."

"He's a police officer."

* * *

**Did anyone see that coming? Tell me things. Including what you want to see happen in the upcoming season of MC. **


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the rest of the last chapter. Which is now its own chapter. Obviously.**

**The last scene was written for the amazing SChimes. So, if you hate it, blame her. :P**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"He's a police officer," Raydor stated knowingly.

David watched Aaron whose eyes were still locked with Raydor's.

"It is possible," Hotch said evenly.

As expected, it took Provenza seconds to explode. "What?! Now, hold on just a second!" He stood from his chair, arms gesturing wildly, and Sharon turned from Hotch to face him. "You're not working Internal Affairs anymore, Captain. You can't just _accuse_ a police officer of being a MURDERER without there being major repercussions!" She stood unfazed waiting for him to continue yelling. Provenza glared harder. "Let's just ignore that aside from this so called "profile," we have no solid proof of a police officer being responsible for this. Let's ignore that and talk about the fact that if this is a police officer, we'll have to turn this over to Internal Affairs. Who, in case you've _forgotten_, don't have nearly as much experience investigating homicides as we do."

The Captain opened her mouth to reply but another voice beat her to it.

"You'd be rid of us," Dr. Reid stated matter-of-factly. David felt his mouth twitch upward in a suppressed smile when Reid swallowed hard as everyone turned to stare at him. "Which is what you've wanted from the beginning, right?"

Provenza rolled his eyes heavenward before focusing on Reid. "What I want is to catch this asshole." He turned his attention back to the Captain again. "And we're much more likely to do that than your friends in Internal Affairs."

Rossi was unsurprised, but impressed by the Captain's smooth even reply that managed to be calmative without being condescending. "I have no intention of turning this case over to Internal Affairs right away, Lieutenant. As you said, we have no proof. However, you'll recall that before the FBI joined us, we already considered that the Domestic Violence incidents were the only commonality among these women and looked to see if the reports were taken by the same officer—"

"Which they weren't!" Provenza reminded her gruffly. "And we only did that to ELIMINATE the _possibility_ that a police officer was involved!"

"We need to further examine the possibility, Lieutenant. Which is exactly what we will do. BUT we will do it _quietly_."

Provenza sat down at his desk and picked up a file just so he could throw it down again. It was a distinct possibility that the curmudgeonly lieutenant was unhappy.

Tao spoke up and turned to begin typing on the computer. "I'll contact the Domestic Violence Detectives and request—"

"No," Sharon said rather sharply, for her, and Tao stopped, bringing his eyes to meet hers. "They'll realize we're investigating one of their own if we do that, and by tomorrow the whole LAPD will know."

She sighed and sounded slightly exasperated as she thought out loud. "This would actually be easier under the guise of Internal Affairs. That way there would be an assurance of complete confidentiality."

"Garcia can do it without anyone knowing," J.J. spoke up from beside the Murder Board, still holding the dry erase marker which she tapped against the palm of her hand. "She's our Technical Analyst. She'll have no problem finding out anything in any computerized LAPD file without leaving a trace."

"Is that legal?" Flynn spoke up, his mouth hanging open slightly in confusion.

Hotch answered, "For your reports all you'll have to say is that the information came from the FBI. So, yes, it's perfectly legal."

The narrowing of her eyes, crossed arms, and the way she pursed her lips told Rossi exactly what the Captain thought about the implications behind that sentence.

"I'll call her," Morgan spoke while pulling out his cellphone and stepping away from the group.

Sharon nodded. "Mike, why don't you help Buzz with the footage, and keep in mind you'll be looking for patrol cars, too."

"I'll lend an extra pair of eyes," J.J. volunteered, glancing between Hotch and Raydor briefly.

Raydor nodded at the blonde agent. "Thank you. Julio, Amy, and Andy, speak with all of our victims' friends and relatives, again, and _discretely _inquire about the DV incidents."

"I can help with that," Prentis spoke up. "With Reid and Morgan." She volunteered the other two agents and didn't look to either Hotch or Raydor for approval.

Sharon continued, "See if the name of any police officer was mentioned, if there was one checking on her regularly. Lieutenant Provenza, why don't you join Agent Hotchner and me to inform Chief Taylor of this development."

Sharon didn't wait to hear an agreement before spinning on her heel and heading out of the Murder Room, presumably towards Taylor's office.

Provenza grumbled something Rossi didn't catch as he stood up to follow.

"Dave," Hotch said simply and made a small motion of his head. Apparently, he'd be enjoying this meeting as well. How fun.

* * *

It was a little surreal.

Taylor's eyes moved between Captain Raydor and Agent Hotchner as they stood in front of his desk arguing with each other. At least he thought they were arguing. It was hard to tell. Neither one of them moved a single facial muscle unless it was to speak. Provenza was grumpily alternating between pacing and eye rolling as they spoke, and probably wishing he had a crossword puzzle with him. Agent Rossi stood off to the side, his head moving between Raydor and Hotch completely transfixed on every word they were saying.

"Captain," Hotch was saying, "I find your attitude towards my team and our work completely unacceptable. Since we've arrived you've inserted yourself and your team into our processes significantly hampering out ability to work efficiently."

Was that a fancy way of saying he was upset that he didn't have a room of his own? Taylor wondered.

"Agent Hotchner," the Captain's tone was controlled, "your opinions on how I run my department are not what we've come here to discuss."

"No, they aren't. However, it seems necessary to discuss those opinions now, because you are jeopardizing this investigation."

"I am not going to discuss this further at this time. We have a possible rouge police officer who at this very moment could be stalking another victim-"

"About that—" Taylor tried to interject and regain control of the conversation.

"A victim that you're actions are condemning." Hotchner went on ignoring Taylor.

"I hardly see how investigating this crime is condemning a woman to death," Taylor spoke loudly before Raydor could reply.

He almost rolled his eyes when Raydor and Hotchner turned to look at him with identical looks of annoyance. At least he had their attention. "A witch-hunt inside the ranks of the LAPD is hardly what we need right now, Agent Hotchner. And if word about this gets out to the media that a police officer is a serial killer...well, I don't know if anyone else has noticed but police officers around the country are under serious scrutiny, right now, and there's no room in my budget for a riot."

"Especially, since we have no proof that it is a police officer!" Provenza cried for the hundredth time since he'd entered the office.

"We have no proof it isn't a police officer either," Raydor responded. "There is only one thing these women have in common, Lieutenant. We have to follow up on that one thing more thoroughly."

"It would be irresponsible to do anything less." Hotchner.

"So the two of you can agree on something," Taylor let the comment slip out mostly by accident. He managed not to comment on the identically raised eyebrows even as Agent Rossi rubbed a hand over neatly trimmed moustache and beard to hide a smile. "Keep that up. Working together that is. And _quietly_ find out if it is a police officer doing this."

"Of course, Chief," Raydor replied immediately.

Taylor felt his eyes narrow. He knew that tone. He didn't like that tone.

"It would be beneficial, however, to have Internal Affairs preform a transparency audit of all—"

"Oh no." Taylor didn't let her finish. If he let her finish, she'd have to opportunity to make a logical argument. "We're not doing that. Do you have any idea what complete transparency audit of an _entire_ department costs?"

It was Provenza's snort that had him remembering she'd headed IA for years. "Absolutely not. I have to save money for the chaos that this being a police officer is going to cause. Sorry, Captain, you're going to have to find another way to do this."

"I agree with Captain Raydor," Hotchtner spoke up.

Taylor stared. "Of course, you do."

Hotchner continued, "I also think distributing the profile to every law enforcement officer will—"

"No. Nuh uh," Taylor cut him off. "We're not doing that."

Provenza spoke up, "But, Chief, just think of how much money you'll save by having police officers kill each other. I mean, it'll practically cancel out the costs of the riots it'll cause. It's not like the city is still in debt from last time there was a riot."

Provenza smiled as everyone looked at him.

"Really?" Taylor asked over his glasses. There had to be a way to force Provenza into retirement.

* * *

"Yippie skippie, little missy."

Sharon, followed closely by Hotch, Provenza, and Rossi, entered the Murder Room just in time to hear the unusual comment.

"What's going on?" Provenza demanded grumpily, moving to see what everyone was staring at on Tao's monitor. Both teams shifted to make room for him so he could see what was on the computer screen.

Directly in front of him on the largest monitor Tao had was a blonde woman dressed in neon pink with furry purple things in her hair and some strange blue necklace with more furry things. "Who are you?"

"Penelope Garcia!" She was way too cheerful. "You must be Lieutenant Provenza. The grumpy one. With an impressive record. And congratulations on your granddaughter, sir!"

"What do you know about my granddaughter?" he growled instinctively, and only then wondered which granddaughter.

"Ashley Provenza, twenty-one-years old, oldest child of your oldest son who is continuing her grandfather's legacy by joining the police academy," the pink one said overly excited.

"Your granddaughter joined the academy?" Flynn grinned proudly, as though it was his own granddaughter. "Why didn't you tell me? That's great!"

"She isn't a police officer yet, Flynn." He glared at the woman on the screen. He'd been spending a great deal of time trying to decide if he was terrified over his granddaughter becoming a cop or proud. Ashley had no idea what she was getting into, and Provenza found it odd that her being shot was the least of his worries. He found himself remembering how he'd treated the handful of women officers that had been on patrol with him in his younger days. The number of police women hadn't surged so greatly since then, and he was leaning more and more towards being terrified despite the round of congratulations he was getting from his team and the FBI agents.

"What are you supposed to be anyway? And how'd you find that out?" he snapped at Garcia.

A hand gently touched his arm just above his elbow, and he didn't need to turn to know who the hand belonged to. Turning his head, his eyes found the pale green ones of the Captain who left her hand on his arm.

"She'll be okay," Sharon said softly. Her hand squeezed his arm briefly before falling away, but her small understanding smile remained in place.

Maybe he could talk Ashley into a career with Internal Affairs.

Before he could comment, the woman on the screen spoke up. "My, oh, my…you must be Captain Raydor."

Provenza moved slightly so she could stand more in front of the computer screen.

"I'm Captain Raydor, yes. Do you have information regarding—"

"We'll get to that in a minute," Garcia interrupted her, leaning back in her chair a bit. "First, I want to get a good look at you, ma'am."

Provenza raised an eyebrow as he felt the Captain stiffen slightly as the pink woman looked her up and down as best one can on an internet camera thing. Clearly, this was making the Captain uncomfortable.

Garcia continued, "Your LAPD photo doesn't do you justice, ma'am. However, aside from a single Christmas picture where you're hiding between your sons that your daughter has on her Facebook page, I couldn't find another picture of you. Well, there's the one the DMV has, but who can trust those?"

"Thank you…" Sharon answered, clearly as unsure of what was going on as Provenza was.

The Rainbow Elf Hippie on the monitor continued speaking faster and faster ignoring the gratitude, and Provenza wondered how she didn't hyperventilate. "It is a pleasure to meet you. You are absolutely amazing. AMAZING! You're an inspiration to women all over the world! The number of medals you've received alone…one for Heroism, the Police Life Saving Medal, the Meritorious Service, and the Meritorious Achievement Medal. Truly, truly, an inspiration."

Provenza glanced at the Captain's face, noting her mouth opening and closing a couple of times, as though trying to find the right words. Clearly, she was just as confused by this creature as he was.

"Those, of course, are just the things you've received commendations for," Garcia continued on, ignoring the Captain's inability to articulate, "your file is packed full of nothing but good things even from your early days when you were only one of ten women in the whole of the LAPD."

Garcia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand for a moment. "That's like less than one percent of the entire LAPD. I cannot even imagine what that must have been like. Surviving that would have been impressive enough, but you also quickly worked your way through the ranks while raising two children, practically, alone! I cannot say this enough, ma'am. You are an inspiration."

"Garcia," Hotchner tried to cut the blonde off, standing behind Raydor. "Do you have something for us?"

"Yeah, yeah, plenty. This will only take a minute, Boss. You realize, of course, you have to bring this one back with you on the jet? _We need to keep her_." Garcia carefully enunciated before she directed her attention back to Sharon who was looking more awkward than Provenza had ever seen her.

"Speaking of your children," Provenza felt Sharon stiffen next to him, "I don't even know where to begin. Richard is a hacking genius. Not as good as me of course, but few are. I'd absolutely LOVE to speak with him sometime about that, actually. I'll text you my phone number. If you could give it to him and ask him to give me a call, that would be FANTASTIC!"

Provenza heard several badly concealed chuckles, and a telling ding signaling the Captain had indeed received a text.

Garcia seemed to take a small break as though waiting for the Captain to say something, but continued on rapidly when no response was quickly forthcoming. "Little Russell is quite an extraordinary young man as well, and you're nothing less than a saint for having the patience to take on such a challenging and remarkable kid."

Again, Garcia paused briefly while the Captain looked on with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. Provenza was tempted to see if she still had a pulse.

"Oh!" Garcia exclaimed, "And your daughter, ma'am, is just beautiful and crazy talented. How does she move that way? I'm not sure I've ever been able to get my leg that high in my life. She is clearly as extraordinarily dedicated to her profession as you are to yours."

Still the Captain was unable to speak, and Provenza was pretty sure she was having a heart attack or stroke. He put a hand on her wrist surreptitiously to see if her pulse was erratic, and was shocked into nearly having a heart attack himself when her fingers found his hand and clung to them tightly for only an instant before releasing them. He wondered if that was a silent scream for help.

Garcia was quiet now, too, clearly waiting for the Captain to speak.

No sound was forthcoming from her.

Garcia grinned widely, but remained silent.

No one seemed to be breathing while they waited on the Captain's reaction.

Garcia's eyes started shifting nervously, but she remained silent.

Finally, the Captain cleared her throat, but her voice was not quite its usual infallible self when she spoke. "My son knows how to hack?"

Garcia blinked uncomfortably. "Umm, well, yeah. That's how he develops and improves his internet security. By hacking. It's really the basis of all internet security. You can only protect against what you know how to do. He was at the Black Hat Convention last year in Vegas actually. He had an interesting panel- Oh! Do you think he'll be there next year? I could use my vacation days!"

Again, Sharon stared silently back at the computer screen.

"Garcia," Rossi's hesitant voice coming from Raydor's other side caught Provenza's attention. "I think you broke her."

"I seriously doubt that," Garcia replied before turning her attention back to Raydor, "by the way, ma'am, I approve of you, so you may date Rossi."

Provenza swore that the Captain's cheeks turned slightly pink even as her jaw tightened. He rolled his eyes. Great. What was it with her office, its past and current occupants, and FBI agents?

Hotchner cleared his throat. "Did you have something case related for us, Garcia?"

"I've already forwarded everything you'll need to Lt. Tao."

"Thank you, Garcia."

"Of course, sir." Garcia turned her attention to Rossi. "Rossi, if you need me to make dinner reservations for-"

The monitor went black before Garcia could finish, and Rossi tried to smile as he pulled his hand away from the computer's power button. "Oops."

* * *

**NINE DAYS! *fangirl shrieking scream* **

**Thoughts about Garcia? What about Provenza's granddaughter? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Mother's Day is coming up in the next chapter. :D And it's only four more days until Season Four! Despite my mixed feelings I'm still excited about that.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Rusty entered the Murder Room cautiously. He didn't want to speak to Sharon right now. In fact, he wanted to avoid her as much as possible until he decided if he wanted to tell her about the bonfire. He knew he should tell her about it, namely about the cops showing up at the end. But he couldn't. He tried so hard not to be a problem and to not disappoint her. And he was pretty sure his presence at the bonfire where people were arrested for underage drinking would be disappointing and maybe even cause a problem for her at work. So, he was glad that the blinds to her office were closed as he walked into his Super Cubicle. Now, he just needed to wait.

When Julio walked past a moment later, Rusty called out his name only as loud as necessary for the detective to hear. The fewer people that knew he was here the better. And it was a sure bet that Julio would know if there was some sort of tag on his license. Julio was, also, probably the only person who would tell him without telling Sharon he'd asked. At least, he hoped that was the case.

"Julio?" Rusty asked. He caught the other man's flash of surprise instantly before Julio moved into the cubicle with him.

"Yeah?" Julio replied gruffly, looking him over questioningly.

"Is there, um, well, do you know if there's like a, you know, a tag or note on my license? I know there used to be one on my file, but that was before I turned eighteen."

"Your recorded was expunged," Julio stated plainly.

"I know, I know." Rusty hesitated. "I was just wondering, like, if I get pulled over for speeding or something, and the cop ran my license, would it still say "Attention Major Crimes" or something?"

Julio stared at him, making Rusty slightly uncomfortable. What was he looking for? Was he going to answer?

"Hypothetically," Julio began slowly, enunciating the word carefully. "If you were pulled over for speeding and they ran your license, they wouldn't find a note."

"Not even one saying I'm a police officer's kid?" Rusty questioned, confused on how the patrol officer knew he was Sharon's son if there wasn't a tag.

"No," Julio answered. "There wouldn't need to be a tag for that. The whole building knows."

"Oh." Rusty was still confused.

Julio read his mind. "You were in the building every day for over a year. Of course, everyone here knows your name and knows you're the Captain's son."

"Oh. I didn't know that." Rusty didn't know how to feel about that.

Julio's look told him that was obvious.

"Thanks, Julio."

Julio nodded his head once and turned to leave. "Don't think you can get away with too much. The Captain will find out."

"Yeah, I know." Rusty nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks, Julio."

Julio nodded once more before leaving.

Rusty sighed and cautiously peeked around the corner stepping out of the cubicle. Sharon would find out eventually. He would tell her, but tomorrow was Mother's Day. It would be the first Mother's Day where she was officially his mom. He could wait until Monday to tell her. He turned to use the side door out of the Murder Room, but didn't get far.

"Rusty?" Sharon's questioning voice stopped him in his tracks. Crap. He turned around slowly. She was stepping out of her office followed by some guy with a beard he'd never seen before. Must be one of the FBI agents.

He smiled and took a few steps towards her, several pairs of eyes followed his movements. They sent a lot of FBI agents this time. "Hey."

"What brings you here? Is something wrong?" The concern in her voice almost made Rusty confess everything to her right then and there. Just get it out and over with.

The eyes following him stopped that from happening. "No, no, umm, I was just curious if your case was about over."

She glanced at the board with a frown. "No, not really. Why?"

Rusty hesitated. Maybe she'd forgotten? She hadn't made a big deal about it last year, but…last year was different. "Do you think you'll be done by tomorrow night?"

Her head tilted just slightly, and Rusty could practically see her thinking for a second before she realized what he was asking. "We have dinner reservations tomorrow."

"I can reschedule," he offered, as she stood looking at him sadly.

"Oh, Rusty." She seemed to remember then she was in the middle of the Murder Room with strangers staring at her and once more schooled her expression. She put her hand on his shoulder and steered him away from everyone. "I really don't think I'll be able to make it."

He shrugged. "Okay. Next weekend? Or sooner?"

"Next weekend is fine," she said, trying to smile. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged again. It was for _her_ Mother's Day. What did he care if they had to reschedule? Her day was the one that was going to be ruined by dead bodies or something. "It's fine. I'll make plans for next weekend."

"Thank you, honey." She gave him a sad smile, but her arm came around his shoulders as she walked him the few steps towards the door. Once there she stopped, while he kept walking. He could feel her watching him go. She was weird sometimes.

* * *

"Let's go over this from the beginning," Sharon stated, staring at the Murder Board and sipping her tea.

Flynn started. "All four women reported their husband or boyfriend for domestic violence. Approximately, two weeks later, they went missing. Their apartments were cleaned. Luminol showed blood only in the bathtubs, though how much of it is hard to say. Same with the blood in the drain."

"Their cars," Amy added, "were apparently sold to chop shops."

"And your Internal Affairs-like investigation," Provenza added with a smile and 'I-told-you-so' voice, "showed that there was not a single police officer connected to all four women."

"I don't think it's a good idea to dismiss police officers completely, yet," Hotchner added.

"I agree," the Captain stated quietly.

Provenza and Flynn both rolled their eyes.

Raydor continued, "All four DV reports came into the LAPD, but the sheriff's office could easily have been asked to drive by these women's homes to check up on them. Buzz?"

The civilian replied, "I checked all the footage from all the cameras nearby. From what I could see, no car drove near all four residences. But some of the homes didn't have a lot a cameras around. It would have been easy to avoid them."

"Ma'am," Julio raised his hand, peering around Agent Prentiss who was sitting on the corner of his desk. "Why don't we go back to trying to locate the women? If we can find their bodies, there might be more clues."

Raydor nodded. "Yes, good idea, Julio."

Tao was focused on something on his monitors, but turned his head to look expectantly at Reid who was watching over his shoulder. "Maybe the FBI can help us with that. Any idea where this guy would dump the bodies?"

"Someplace he can keep them alive without raising suspicion. At least for a weekend," Rossi answered, sitting on the edge of the desk that had been designated for FBI use. "This guy is all about controlling these women. They're powerful to him, and he wants to crush that. Not just by killing them. He wants to see them beg. He can't do that in an apartment or with any nearby neighbors."

"So what you're saying," Flynn paced slowly near Provenza's desk, his brow drawn together in confusion, "is that this guy abducts these women-but doesn't kill them,-takes them to a secluded location-still doesn't kill them, - leaves them there, goes back to their homes, cleans up, goes back to where he left them, and spends the rest of the weekend torturing them?"

"Then shows up to work on Monday looking rejuvenated. Like he's had the best weekend of his life," Rossi continued.

"Until," Hotchner added, "the high wears off. And he has to do it all over again."

"Unless," Julio commented, "he's taking them out of LA, the only places secluded enough for that would be Elysian Park or Griffith Park, and even then he runs the risk of being discovered by a hiker or a homeless person living in the woods."

"We could send some cadets out," Amy suggested. "With some cadaver dogs. See if they find anything."

"How about we not do that," Provenza said, glaring at Amy for the suggestion.

The only people who didn't try to hide knowing smiles were Raydor and Hotch. Aaron maintained his look of cool indifference, while Sharon looked on with sympathy.

Sharon was eternally grateful that none of her children had ever shown more than a passing interest in her work, and that none were inclined to follow in her footsteps. Until finding out about Provenza's granddaughter, she didn't even realize the potential for concern over her hypothetical grandchildren becoming police officers. She told herself that she had a few years to wait and develop a strategy for that possible scenario.

She spoke quietly, as though that would be more sympathetic to her experienced Lieutenant, "I think that's a good idea, Amy. Supervise the search of Griffith Park. Julio, take Elysian Park."

"Whichever one of you gets Ashley, be sure to take a picture!" Flynn grinned proudly, oblivious to his partner glaring him.

Provenza grumbled something unintelligible.

Julio understood him anyway apparently. "I'll take care of her, sir. Don't worry."

Amy rolled her eyes, while on the phone arranging the search.

"It will take days to finish that search," Mike commented.

"If we could interview the officers who took the DV reports, we might be able to get something there," Prentiss stated.

Raydor shook her head. "It will also tip them off that we're looking for a police officer, and we can't do that."

"_You_ can't do that," Rossi said.

Sharon tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

"The FBI, however…"

Sharon picked up where he trailed off, "has a separate investigation that must be conducted thoroughly, which means not only going over the reports but speaking to each officer involved, individually."

Rossi nodded.

"Andy," Sharon turned to him, "could you give our patrol officers a call and ask them to come in as soon as possible, please. The FBI needs to speak with them."

"On it." Flynn walked back to his desk, but turned with a smile. "I'll make sure they realize that it's all FBI bullshit, too."

"I'll give Garcia a call," Morgan said, pulling out his cellphone and stepping towards Flynn's desk away from the group. "She can dig up background on the patrol officers." He paused halfway to Flynn's desk and turned to offer Raydor the cellphone. "Unless you'd like to speak to her again, ma'am?"

Sharon tactfully ignored the snickers and badly concealed chuckles. "Do give her my best, Agent Morgan."

Derek turned back towards Flynn's desk with a lopsided smile that had without a doubt broken many hearts.

* * *

There was no knock on her door before it opened.

When she saw the person coming through, she realized why.

"Don't shoot. I come with peace offerings." In Rossi's hands were two mugs with steam rising out of them. "Coffee or Spearmint tea?"

Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did you _profile _the flavors of tea of I like?" _Or did Garcia tell you_, she thought.

"No," he sat the tea on the desk in front of her, "You walked by earlier and I could smell the mint. I wanted to apologize about Garcia."

She picked up the tea, bringing it to her lips in order to inhale the powerful scent. "Thank you."

"She means well." Rossi stood off to the side of her desk. "She just gets overly excited."

"I understand." She put the tea down and waited for him to continue. "Is there something else I can help you with?"

"You're working late again. On a case that has nothing to do with this one."

She glanced down at Stroh's prison mugshot before bringing her eyes to meet his once again. "I don't see how that's your concern, Agent Rossi."

"Dave," he said simply. "You like calling people by their first names, and you like it when they return the gesture. It puts you on even ground and takes rank out of the equation. It makes conversations easier and builds trust. You're from the school of thought that believes that the most important thing you can remember about someone is their name."

She nodded. "I'm beginning to understand why the FBI _may_ have a rule about profiling co-workers… Dave."

"It comes in handy when sending people out for coffee orders," he joked before gesturing to the file on her desk. "Anything I can help with?"

"I'm sure Garcia can tell you all about it if you ask her."

"Probably," he replied with a shrug before he met her eyes. "But I'm not asking her."

She inclined her head, grateful that he was willing to ask her. "It's a manhunt for a serial killer who has escaped from prison." She began putting the file back together. "You can have this copy of the file if you'd like. I'm sure the BAU will consider him a valuable specimen."

"Mind if I ask what makes this one special?" Rossi asked, walking around to sit in a chair across from her desk.

She handed the file to him just before he sat down and hesitated before answering. "The serial killer in question…my son was a witness to his crimes."

Dave's head shot up from looking at the file. "The young man who stopped in earlier to reschedule your Mother's Day?"

"Yes." She couldn't help the slight collapse of her shoulders. Canceling the first official Mother's Day dinner with her newly adopted son wasn't something she wanted. At all. And not just for herself. More importantly, she wanted to show Rusty how much she appreciated his efforts in making the time to take her to dinner. She seriously doubted Sharon Beck had ever shown her son any appreciation unless it was to get something from him.

Rossi closed the file, adopting a tone of finality in his voice. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," she said, and truly meant it. She'd been considering calling the Justice League to help her apprehend Stroh, but she doubted they were within budget. She did a mental double take at the thought. Obviously she'd seen too many movies with Rusty.

Rossi stood up and smirked, gesturing to the door. "Want to share an elevator again?"

She smiled. "Garcia will probably consider that a date if she finds out."

"I won't tell if you don't." The charming smirk returned.

"Ah, but there are cameras in the elevators," she stated, feeling oddly playful with him.

His grin deepened then. "Well, we won't tell her about those either."

As usual the rise and fall of her shoulders gave away her controlled laugh. "Or we could tell her and let her watch as we stand silently waiting for the elevator to come to a gentle stop."

He nodded, masking his features as he rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I'm not sure she'd be able to tolerate watching such unbridled passion." Somehow Rossi managed to keep a straight face after saying that.

She make a noise of amusement and stood before she removed her purse from the cabinet behind her desk. Unbridled passion? Was he an author and profiler?

As she rounded her desk, Rossi stopped her by resting a hand on her arm for a brief second. "She really didn't mean any harm, Sharon."

"I know," she replied, walking past him through the door he held open for her.

* * *

**I'm very curious on your thoughts about this last scene with Rossi and Sharon. I'm curious about your other thoughts as well, so please share those, too. I'm swear, I'm not picky. **


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter may have gotten away from me a bit. I had no intention of focusing so much on Mother's Day in this chapter-it was only supposed to be a minor part. That minor part grew. And grew. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight.**

Inside the Visitor's Conference room, Agent Morgan sat across the table from a dark haired, blue eyed woman, as Sharon and Provenza looked on from Electronics with Buzz, Rossi, and Hotchner.

"Officer Blake, how are you today?" Agent Morgan said as the other's watched on Buzz's monitors.

"Very good, Agent Morgan. You?" Blake replied politely.

Buzz's eyes narrowed on the monitor before he motioned towards it. "Why are we interviewing Officer Blake if we know the suspect is a man?" he questioned.

"We have no _proof_ that it is a man. We can't overlook her just because we're almost positive it is a man," Raydor answered from the seat next to Buzz.

"And," Provenza continued as he stood behind Raydor, "if we don't interview her and the others find out, they'll know we suspect them." Buzz seemed to accept their answers as he turned back to the monitors.

Back on the screen, Officer Blake questioned Morgan. "I'm a little confused on why I'm here. I've already spoken to Major Crimes about Drew Pranty."

"I know," Agent Morgan smiled at her. "But we look for different things than what Major Crimes looks for."

"Like what?"

"Behaviors," Agent Morgan answered immediately. "Drew Pranty may have said or done something while speaking to you that would indicate a pattern. If we can establish similar patterns of behavior between all four missing women, we might find a clue that leads to the suspect."

Blake nodded. "Would you like me to go over it again?"

"Please," Morgan smiled again.

"On Wednesday March 11th –the exact time is in the report, as is the exact address- I was dispatched to Drew Pranty's apartment. When I arrived, one other patrol officer was on scene –Officer Perez- he was knocking on the door waiting for a response. When we heard the scream, Officer Perez knocked down the door, and we entered with weapons drawn. We saw a white male, approximately six feet tall, bending over a couch holding down a woman who was clearly in distress. He immediately moved away from the woman, who sat up from the couch and moved away from him."

"Was she hurt?" Morgan asked seriously.

Blake nodded. "She was clutching her arm that was clearly injured and her upper arms appeared bruised too."

"You could see her arms?"

"Yes," Blake continued, "she was wearing a spaghetti strapped night shirt and shorts."

"And the man?"

"He identified himself as Jeff Johnson, the victim's boyfriend who lived with her."

"What else happened that night?"

"Jeff Johnson was arrested for domestic violence, Drew Pranty went to the hospital by ambulance, and the case was turned over to the Domestic Violence Detectives."

"Did you see her again after that night?"

"No, sir," Officer Blake answered.

"Did she ever call you? Or ask you to check on her?"

Officer Blake shook her head in confusion. "No, I took the report, but the actual investigation and prosecution is handled by the Domestic Violence Detectives and DA office."

"What other DV incidents have you been called out to, Officer?"

"Too many to remember all of them, sir," she said with a tinge of sadness, "and most don't want to press charges. But I don't think any of the others went missing."

"Thank you, Officer Blake." Agent Morgan stood and offered her his hand as she stood as well. "You've been very helpful."

Her own doubt over her helpfulness was obvious.

"Well," Provenza turned to the FBI, "think we can cross her off the list? Seeing as to how she couldn't remember the exact time, let alone address."

"There are still three others," Agent Hotchner commented.

"And the DV Detectives," Buzz commented, turning the monitors off as Derek and Officer Blake left the interview room.

"We won't be able to speak to them until Monday," Sharon commented. "However we should have another patrol officer stopping by soon."

The door to Electronics opened, and a smiling J.J. popped her head in. "Captain, you may want to step out here for a minute."

Confusion showed on Raydor's face, but before she could ask for specifics J.J.'s head was gone. She cast a questioning glance at Provenza who shrugged. He stood with her and everyone followed her out of Electronics.

In the Murder Room a blonde woman, wearing the uniform of a local florist, with her hair in a ponytail and a huge smile stood holding a tall smooth sweet pink vase filled with bright sunny yellow sunflowers, at least a dozen fresh pale pink roses, and offset with pink speckled baby's breath.

"Sharon Raydor?" the blonde asked walking towards her.

"Yes." Sharon didn't know what to do except smile, nevertheless it was a slightly awkward smile. Her kids hadn't given her flowers for Mother's Day since Ricky was young enough to pick them himself from the neighbor's garden. She'd also never received them at work where she was surrounded by police officers who wouldn't think twice of fully investigating where the flowers had come from.

The blonde woman handed her the vase, and a separate pink envelope containing a card too big to add to the arrangement. "Happy Mother's Day!"

"Thank you," Sharon commented over the tops of the flowers.

The blonde delivery girl turned and left as quickly as she'd come.

"They're beautiful," J.J. exclaimed, playing with the necklace around her neck. "Happy Mother's Day, Captain."

"Thank you," she repeated, smiling awkwardly, and started walking towards her office carrying the arrangement. A cacophonous chorus of Mother's Day well wishes echoed behind her, and she couldn't stop the elation caused by receiving something thoughtful from one of her children. Which child had sent them she wasn't sure, but was eager to find out. Ricky and Emily usually called. Ricky would have some small gift delivered to her door, and Emily would send a card in the mail usually with a small gift card- not unlike what she sent to her own mother, actually. Flowers didn't really seem like Rusty's style. He was new to this sort of thing, however, and she'd canceled their dinner plans so perhaps this was his backup plan.

In her office she set the arrangement on her table, concealing her excitement with a small smile, and opened the pink envelope. Her smile faded, and her excitement curdled in her stomach as she read the cover.

_For the Mother of our children…_

She stared at the first sentence for a moment before she slid the card back in its envelope. She would read it later. Much later. When she had an opportunity to do so without distractions and with a clear head. When she could read it and decided whether this was the desperate attempt of an alcoholic to get something from her, or if he actually meant the words beautifully embossed on the card, and the ones he no doubt wrote on the inside.

She tucked the card in her purse behind her desk before leaving the office when she saw another patrol officer enter the Murder Room.

"Officer Forest," Provenza greeted the patrol officer with a handshake. "Thanks for stopping by again." Provenza gestured to Agent Morgan. "Agent Morgan here from the FBI wanted to ask you about Karla Brown."

Forest shook hands with Morgan who led the patrol officer to the Visitors Conference Center. Sharon waited until he was out of sight before heading towards Electronics along with Provenza, Hotchner, and Rossi.

* * *

The interview with Officer Forest went much like the one with Officer Blake.

Forest had responded to a call at Karla's home on January 8th. Her boyfriend had left her apartment before she'd had time to call the police. Karla told the officer her boyfriend – Alex Martin- didn't have a key to her apartment nor did she need immediate medical attention for the large bruise forming on her arm that resembled a mark left by a fist. She did want to file a report and press charges. She assured Forest that she would go to the hospital the next day to have her relatively minor injuries documented, and would forward the information to the LAPD. Officer Forest had pointed out that while his information was on the report her case would be handed over to a Domestic Violence Detectives, and she'd need to call the LAPD to find out which detective was in charge of her case. He'd sent out a warrant for Alex Martin's arrest, however, the man hadn't gone straight home. He waited with Karla for another hour in case her boyfriend returned, but eventually had to leave. He put in a request for patrol drive by her apartment until the boyfriend was arrested then left not long after that. He was aware that Alex Martin had been arrested several hours later, but knew nothing else about the case.

In other words, he couldn't tell them anything that wasn't already in the reports.

Stepping out of Electronics, Sharon heard Andy say, "What are we missing here? There's no overlap anywhere?"

They were still sorting through the massive amounts of information sent by Garcia.

Emily replied, "I honestly don't know, and several of the patrol officers involved were working the weekends when the UNSUB would have been cleaning things up."

"I'm not sure that interviewing the patrol officers is doing any good anyway," Rossi contributed to the conversation.

Sharon turned, so as not to look at the flowers in her office. "They seem to have thoroughly completed their reports, and considering how long it's been since the DV reports were filed…"

J.J. spoke up next. "And he's probably already stalking his next victim. Should we issue some sort of statement to the press?"

"Only if the FBI wants to be responsible for the riots it will cause," Provenza added a touch more grumpy than usual. Probably, because he had to agree with Taylor about something.

"Excuse me?" a new voice spoke up from the open doorway. A young man, at least sixteen considering he was clearly working as a delivery driver- though he didn't look a day over twelve- with more than his fair share of acne, stood holding an arrangement of flowers. "I'm looking for Sharon Raydor."

It took Sharon a moment to comprehend what was happening-again- and move towards the young man, "Umm…yes. I'm Sharon Raydor."

"Happy Mother's Day," he smiled obligatorily at her as he handed her the basket of flowers that Sharon was fairly sure fell under the description of 'Country French.' "Thank you," she replied to the young man's back before turning around.

J.J. was the first to speak this time, too, with a wistful smile. "Happy Mother's Day, again, Captain."

"Thank you," she responded, moving towards her office.

Sharon went into her office and set the basket of flowers down on the table. There was no large envelope this time, merely the standard small card normally seen in flowers. She still wore a small smile, but her excitement was laced with apprehension this time.

The message on the card- that was printed not handwritten- was brief: _Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Love you. –Ricky_

Her smile grew and the apprehension disappeared replaced with warmth and love. She slid the card back into its tiny envelope before returning it gently to the card holder. She took a second to admire the flowers again. Now that she knew who they were from, she couldn't imagine anyone else selecting them for her. The woven basket was dark brown and didn't have a handle as much as it had vines intertwining to resemble an arch, with silk butterflies of blue and purple resting throughout the arch. The flowers were mostly darker colors as well grouped together by type and color. The deep blues, purples, greens, and reds were offset with a small grouping of deep pink primroses and another batch of white daisies. The basket wasn't really a style that would match the rest of her home décor, but Ricky would only see that they were pretty and slightly unique despite the overall traditional appearance. She couldn't wait to speak with him when he called. And Emily, too. Her Rusty would at least be home when she arrived, and she could get one hug on Mother's Day.

As she turned to go back to work, she briefly wondered how Ricky knew she'd be working today.

* * *

"So, which two of your kids sent flowers?" Flynn asked, making himself a cup of coffee.

Sharon poured herself a glass of water before returning the jug to the break room fridge that – she noted- was in serious need of cleaning again. "Ricky sent the basket," she replied without hesitation, "Jack sent the pink vase."

"Jack?" Andy turned his head to look at her as she stood beside the counter.

She nodded. "And a card."

Andy turned to face her with a concerned look. She had told him about Rusty finding Jack drunk in her apartment a couple months ago. "What did it say?"

She shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards. "I haven't read it, yet."

Andy nodded. "Well, if you need anything…"

He trailed off, and she wondered what he thought she might need. "Thank you."

"I did that once, too," Andy confessed, "sent my ex-wife flowers on Mother's Day. I'd been in AA almost two years, and it seemed like a nice gesture." He shrugged. "She didn't see it that way."

"I'm sorry." She very much wanted to see the flowers as a positive step in the right direction. Not only for Jack, but for Ricky and Emily. The part of her that had been manipulated by Jack so many times in the past, however, couldn't help the suspicion. Yet, she didn't want to question Jack's motives either, because, what-if, like Andy, he was finally changing for the better? How did she navigate this? How could she help while not enabling him? How could she make sure her kids weren't enabling him while still letting them make their own decisions where their father was concerned?

"Me, too," Andy said, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he walked past.

She finished half her glass of water before refilling it then returned to her office to eat her lunch. She'd barely sat down when her phone rang.

She smiled, seeing the caller ID, and couldn't answer fast enough. "Hello, sweetheart. Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"_Are you too busy to talk? I can call back later," _Ricky offered before saying a proper 'hello' causing her smile to grow more somehow.

"No, no, I'm eating lunch, so I have a few minutes. How are you?"

"_I'm good, Mom. Happy Mother's Day."_

"Thank you, darling. What have you been up to lately?"

"_Not a lot."_

Sharon's smile faded a bit. Emily and Rusty were the two she usually had to drag information from most days. Ricky only kept his answers short if… "Is everything okay?"

"_What? Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." _He paused, "_look, Mom…"_

Warning bells went off in her head. Experience had taught her that the words "look, mom" (or "look, Sharon" in Rusty's case) almost always preceded an explanation for something her children thought she wouldn't understand without their specific clarifications.

"_I'm really sorry about Friday."_

She waited a moment for him to elaborate. "What happened Friday?"

There was a long pause on the other end, and if it weren't for the fact she could hear the TV in the background, she'd have thought the call had disconnected.

"_You don't know."_

It wasn't a question, so she didn't reply.

"_Mom, umm…I'll call you back later, okay?"_

"Ricky-"

"_I really shouldn't be the one telling you this. I promise, I'll call you back later. Okay?"_

She didn't answer right away. She wanted more than anything to demand he tell her EVERYTHING, and knowing Ricky he probably would if she pushed. He usually told her everything anyway. Well, almost everything. She was his _mother_ so she was sure there were a few things he held back. "All right."

"_Okay. I'll call you back later. Love you."_

She smiled again, though not as excitedly as before, and the worry stayed in place. "Love you, too."

The call disconnected. She caught a glance of the flowers Ricky had sent. They were clearly guilt flowers. The standard Mother's Day gift she usually got from him was most likely at home waiting on her. He'd ordered the flowers recently enough to know she was working a case that would keep her in the office all weekend. He'd probably spoken to Rusty yesterday. Perhaps she should call Rusty, now, and see if he knew what happened on Friday.

She began picking at her lunch. Or maybe whatever happened Friday had to do with Jack? Which would explain his sending her flowers, too… She shook her head. She would find out sometime today. There was no point in speculating, and worrying, now.

* * *

By the time the third florist delivery person had shown up, Sharon thought that it might be prudent to begin speculating and worrying. The third delivery was much smaller than the previous two, but she didn't like it any less than Ricky's. It was a white teacup with blue flowers carefully spaced out on it sitting on a matching saucer. The teacup was overflowing with large bright blue orchids and irises that matched the ones printed on the cup. It was a unique arrangement, and clearly came from Rusty just as obviously the basket had come from Ricky. The tiny card that accompanied it was left lying on the saucer its corner tucked under the edge of the teacup. The note inside was handwritten.

_Happy Mother's Day! –Love, Rusty_

She carefully returned the note to the envelope and placed it underneath the edge of a saucer. Despite her smile, she couldn't shake the feeling Rusty was involved in whatever had happened on Friday. She also decided she'd never be able to receive flowers again without a sense of apprehension. Her boys were determined to see her pull her hair out, it seemed.

She sighed before leaving her office and heading to Electronics. Their third patrol officer had just arrived, and she wanted to watch the interview. Provenza, Hotchner, and, of course, Buzz were already there, and she wondered briefly at Rossi's absence, but soon focused on the interview being led by Agent Prentiss.

"Agent Prentiss," Officer Werico, was saying, "I really don't see how I can help you anymore than I have Major Crimes. Everything is in my report."

"You'd be surprised," Emily said with a shrug and a smile. "We focus more on the behavior of the victims. If we can find patterns it can tell us a great deal about the person responsible for their disappearance."

Officer Werico shrugged not looking convinced. "Okay, how can I help?"

Emily opened the folder containing his report. "I won't ask you to go over the whole report, but if you think of anything at all you'd like to add, no matter how minor, please let me know."

Werico nodded.

"All right," Emily began, "Do you know what happened to Gabriella Lareens husband after his arrest on the night of the Domestic Violence Incident?"

Werico shook his head. "Not really, Gabriella was intent on pressing charges I know, and worried about her husband coming back since he had a key to their place. I told her that the city would provide money to change her locks, but that, and an injunction to keep him away from the house, would take time. And that until then we'd make sure to patrol around her apartment. The DV detectives would know more specifics than me."

Emily nodded. "Do you remember what she was wearing the night you took the report?"

Werico looked confused, and Sharon was curious about the question as well. "Why does that matter?"

Emily answered, "Two of the other girls were wearing sleeveless shirts. We can't dismiss the possibility that something like that could be what makes them targets."

"She had sleeves on. It looked like a t-shirt that belonged to her husband, I think."

"The officers who checked on her regularly, do you know their names?"

"No, ma'am," Werico seemed uninterested, "I know that sometimes the Sheriff's office sometimes helps with that sort of thing though. Budget cut, you know."

"Oh, I know, budget cuts are the only thing we hear about lately."

Werico chuckled a bit, "Same here."

"How clean was Gabriella's house?" Emily asked.

"Well, some things had been thrown around, so there was broken glass and stuff, but aside from that it was pretty clean. I've been in places a lot worse."

Emily nodded and glanced at her notes for another moment. "I think that will be all, Officer Werico. Thank you for your help."

* * *

Minutes after Werico left, everyone was once again in the Murder Room.

"What if we stalked this guy's victim's too?" J.J. suggested, sitting at the spare desk.

"What do you mean?" Tao asked, leaning back in his chair.

"We know the sort of person he's already stalking. Is it possible to go through all the DV reports since Marrisa's disappearance and find women who fit his type and provide them with extra protection?"

"That's an excellent idea," Sharon stated. "Mike…"

"On it," Mike replied and began typing on his computer. "I'll pull up all the recent DV reports, print them out, and we can go from there."

"You're going to have to pay for that," Provenza commented without looking up from his crossword.

Tao rolled his eyes just as Rossi entered the Murder Room.

"What is that, Dave?" Aaron asked, and his confused look was more emotion than Sharon had seen displayed on his face since their arrival.

"This," Rossi said with a loud flourish in his voice, as everyone turned their eyes towards him. "Is something I picked up for J.J. and Sharon when I went to get lunch earlier." He placed a white box on Provenza's desk ignoring the glare- tempered by curiosity- that the older man threw his way.

"It's not much," he added, opening the box carefully, "but since they're spending their Mother's Day with us, I thought we could show them a little appreciation."

"Aren't three bouquets of flowers a lot of appreciation?" Reid commented, attempting to joke, as he gathered around the desk with everyone else.

"Spence," J.J. put her arm around his waist in a sideways hug, "do you remember when I was pregnant, and I let you feel Henry kick?"

"Yeah," Reid still seemed clueless. "That was more than a little freaky."

There were a few light giggles, and head shakes as Rossi carefully extracted a cake from the box.

J.J. continued with smile, "One bouquet of flowers for each child doesn't really compare to that. Let alone to labor. Or temper tantrums. Or, so I've heard, teenagers."

Chuckles could be heard from almost everyone, even Sharon allowed herself a small laugh as the doctor slowly seemed to understand something.

Rossi soon had the cake cut and handed the first two slices to Sharon and J.J. "Happy Mother's Day, ladies."

* * *

The final patrol officer arrived as they were sorting through all the recent DV incidents that had come into the LAPD since Marissa's disappearance, and identifying ones that could possibly fit their suspect's preference.

"Officer Horton," Flynn said, greeting the younger man with a handshake. "Thanks for stopping by if you—"

"This has nothing to do with Friday, right?" The officer turned to face Sharon, "I don't know what your son told you, Ma'am, but really, several of the kids there that night were arrested for drug possession and underage drinking. All we did with your son was send him on his way once we established he wasn't over the legal limit to drive."

Sharon blinked. "I see." Her eyes began shifting back and forth rapidly as she quickly started to piece things together. Though having this conversation in the middle of her Murder Room wasn't high on her list of things to do. "But my son wasn't detained?"

Horton shook his head. "No, Ma'am, he didn't have any drugs on him. And his blood-alcohol level was zero. He was actually very respectful and cooperative. We let him go the second we knew he was safe to drive." Horton shrugged, "honestly, Captain, it seemed like he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And what wrong place was that, Officer Horton?" She smiled at him, trying not to look shocked at what she was hearing.

"On the beach Friday night. A bunch of kids had a bonfire going—" he broke off, realizing that the Captain had no idea what he was talking about. "You…didn't know?"

"I do now, Officer Horton. Thank you, so much. Now, I do believe that Agent Prentiss wishes to speak to you regarding a recent DV report you filed."

Agent Prentiss was very clearly trying not laugh, but soon regained her composure. "Yes, yes, uhh, Officer Horton, come with me, please."

* * *

Sharon managed to balance all three flower arrangements and her purse from her car, up the elevator, and to her front door. Dave had helped her take the flowers to her car when she'd left the PAB after the _enlightening_ interview with Officer Horton. Well, not enlightening to the case, but she found their conversation interesting just the same. She set the two larger arrangements down so she could unlock the door and left the pink one outside just long enough to place the others on the table.

Just as she was settling the third arrangement on the table, she heard soft feet moving across the floor letting her know that her son had appeared.

She turned to see him looking rather reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. Clearly, Ricky was somehow involved in all this and it was Rusty he'd called after he'd hung up with her

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her youngest in a hug. "Thank you, for the flowers, honey. They're beautiful."

Rusty hesitated, but wrapped his arms around her. It was a quick hug and a moment later he pulled away, "Look, Sharon, okay, I admit. I'm sorry. The bonfire didn't go exactly as planned on Friday," he rambled. "But how was I supposed to know about some ban or ordinance or whatever on beach bonfires? It's not like you learn that in school." He then shook his head. "I should've told you. I know. I'm sorry, but I just, you know, didn't want to disappoint you again. I mean, you've been so great with me. Really. But I just keep messing things up."

"Rusty." She moved past him to sit down on the couch. As she pulled a throw pillow close, she spoke calmly, "Tell me what happened, please."

Rusty came to sit beside her on the couch and after taking a deep breath told her everything from Katie asking him to drive her to the "small" party to the police showing up to Ricky asking him for a text when he arrived home. He just kept talking, the entire story flowing out detail by detail, and he couldn't understand why Sharon was sitting there smiling at him with that small smile she wore whenever she was trying to temper just how excited and happy she was. He finally came to a stop and waited for her to say something.

She continued smiling at him for a moment.

"Sharon?"

"Hmm?"

Her reply didn't ease his anxiety. "Are you upset… or something?"

She was still wearing that smile as she nodded, "A little."

"Oh," he didn't know what to make of her reaction. This wasn't usually how Sharon acted when she was upset.

"I'm upset because both you and your brother thought I'd be upset over the two of acting like responsible adults." She paused a second to think. "And a little upset that both of you put off telling me."

"Oh," Rusty repeated, confused.

"But mostly," Sharon continued her smile growing, as she hugged the pillow tighter, "I'm very proud. Of both you and Ricky."

"Proud?" Obviously, Sharon was losing her mind, and he wasn't sure how, but somehow that was Ricky's fault. He was sure of it.

She nodded. "You found yourself in a situation that made you uncomfortable, where things were going on that you didn't think were good. You made the decision to leave, but not without ensuring that your friend was safe. A very responsible, kind thing to do. Then when the police did show up you cooperated fully and behaved respectfully towards the patrol officers." She let out a small snort-laugh. "You even defended Ricky's telling you to go to the bonfire because he didn't know it wasn't organized by the school. Yes, Rusty, I'm so, so, very proud of you. And of Ricky, too, for doing his best to look out for you."

Rusty looked away and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. What did he do to deserve Sharon? "I'm sorry I ruined your Mother's Day."

A hand on his shoulder had him meeting her eyes once again. "You didn't ruin my Mother's Day, honey. In fact, it's one of the best I've ever had." She must have had some really crappy Mother's Days he thought as she smiled at him, and Rusty knew she was about to tease him. "Though, typically, I do expect extra hugs on Mother's Day when my children are around."

He rolled his eyes with a smile. _Sharon…_She somehow always got exactly what she wanted. He scooted closer to her, and once again found her arms wrapped around him.

The hug lasted only a little longer than the first. Sharon was smiling at him when they separated, though this time the smile was conspiratorial in nature, "Want to Skype your brother with me? I'm sure we can convince him that I'm furious fairly easily."

* * *

Once she'd talked to Rusty, her mother, and Emily, she'd called Ricky. After a rather humorous discussion that involved much teasing on Rusty's part, she reassured Ricky that he did everything right. She also informed her oldest son that because she was so proud of him she wasn't going to bring up her recent discovery that he was a hacker. However, she did expect a more thorough explanation before his next Black Hatters convention.

Now, reclined back in her bed, she held the card Jack had sent her with the flowers. The envelope felt much heavier than it appeared. With trepidation she opened the envelope once more.

_For the Mother of our Children, _was the first line embossed on the front. The lettering was in gold on a light green flowery background.

_What is Mother's Day?_

_Mother's Day is Celebrating motherhood and what it means to be the one who is the very heart of home and family_

She opened the card to read the inside.

_It's celebrating all the love so often unexpressed. And finding special words and ways that help to say it best. It's celebrating everything that loving mothers do -The cherished and remembered things that last a lifetime through._

_This day was meant for a woman like you._

_Happy Mother's Day_

_Love, Jack._

On the inside cover of the card that didn't have a printed message Jack had written something in his own hand.

_Sharon, Mother's Day gives us a chance to honor the special women who mean the most to us. You're one of those special women, and I wanted you to know how important and special you are to me. -Love always, Jack_

Sharon held the card for several minutes reading Jack's message several times. Finally, she closed the card and returned it to its envelope. Her hand moved towards her nightstand, but paused before she set the card down. After a second's hesitation, she got out of bed and stepped out of her room only as far as necessary to reach her desk.

In the small trashcan, tucked under her desk, she dropped the card before returning to bed.

* * *

**Thoughts? I'd especially love to hear what you think of her reaction Jack's card. **


End file.
